Ashes and Wine: A Collection
by burnthiscityxx
Summary: Random oneshots or series based off nothing in particular, centered around Glee characters. Just a place to put all my thoughts and plot ideas in one!
1. It Hurts: The Pain

**Alright, so Ashes & Wine originally started out as a oneshot. But after the positive response I got from the first one, I decided to turn it into a collection of oneshots. Some are connected, some aren't, but hopefully that's made clear enough. This is mostly just a place where I can lay out some plot bunnies that float around in my head and where I can try out some new stuff. For the time being, it's mostly about Sam & Quinn, but there may be some friendship-centric fics in the future, so who knows.**

**I'm also resubmitting this chapter, so I'm not quite sure how it works with all the reviews. So if your reviews are erased, I'm so sorry - it wasn't me that deleted them! :P Anyway, on to this fic.**

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><p><strong>SUMMARY: Quinn and the rest of the New Directions return to Lima after two years away at college. Sam brings along an unexpected guest. Can be read as a stand-alone.<strong>

**Please read & review! :) Xoxo.**

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><p><em><strong>1. The Pain<strong>_

It hurts.

She doesn't expect it to come in waves of pain, either. She thinks it's just when she finds out that Mercedes dumped Shane for Sam, but when she sees them walking hand in hand down the hallway…it's like getting hit by a truck, like she can't breathe. She feels the tears coming and she feels her shoulders shaking, but she pushes it all away. She wants to run, get out of school and never come back, but she doesn't, because…well, she's fucking Quinn Fabray. She's come too far, gone through too much to let some stupid ex-boyfriend and his current girlfriend mess things up for her.

At least, that's what she tells everybody else.

And it's literally the only thing she repeats to herself the whole day, even when she sits in Glee club, listening to Rachel drone on and on about some idea she has for Regionals – a number which obviously, puts her in the spotlight. But then Mercedes is suddenly at the front of the class, talking about love and how unexpected it is and before Quinn can even try and escape, the self-proclaimed diva launches into a version of Carrie Underwood's _'Some Hearts._' As much as Quinn loves Mercedes' voice, she can't help but cringe. It's a _country_ song. And then Mercedes make eye contact with Sam and he just fucking grins back at her…it's downright horrifying. Quinn immediately hates it - hates the song, hates the arrangement, hates the way Sam is looking up at Mercedes with big, bright, green eyes…it's despicable.

And yeah, it hurts.

_Some hearts just get lucky sometimes…_

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><p>He doesn't stop talking to her, though.<p>

That's the thing about Sam. No matter what, he's never the one to abandon you. Unless you cheat on him, like Quinn did in junior year, but that's beside the point. Because even after their breakup, they managed to stay friendly and even grew closer during his family's hard times. And ever since Finn and Rachel brought him back to McKinley, he's been checking in on Quinn every once in a while, making sure she doesn't go back to being the crazy psycho girl who wants to murder Shelby and take Beth for herself. It's nice, having Sam there to help her pick up the pieces. It reminds her of the person she wants to be, the person she could be.

"Hey," he says, sidles up to her and leans against the lockers, his bangs falling into his eyes. Quinn wants to reach up and brush them away, like she used to, but she keeps her hands busy.

"Hi," she replies, hesitant to say anything else. She's on edge; she's always on edge around him now. She doesn't want to say the wrong thing, doesn't want him to think she still misses him. Because even though they're still friends and they still talk, it's different now that he's got Mercedes. She's used to flirting and teasing and smirking, but she can't do that with Mercedes in the picture. Like it or not, it changes everything.

"We should hang out sometime," his voice is dreamlike and he's staring off into nothing, but she knows he feels her eyes on him.

"What?"

"Y'know, just the two of us. We could watch Avatar," his green eyes light up and Quinn groans because Avatar is just so damn long and full of blue people and doesn't he have a girlfriend for this stuff?

"Ask Mercedes to watch it with you," she says, careful to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"She doesn't really get it. And she says it's too long," Sam whines, turning to face Quinn. His eyes are bright and sparkling, like he's a little kid begging for ice cream, and his lips are curled into a mischievous smile and he looks so damn adorable that Quinn nearly gives in.

But she stops herself because she doesn't know what could happen. This whole "Sam and Quinn hanging out alone" isn't a foreign idea, at least. They used to have movie marathons and junk food binges at her house whenever he needed a relief from Finn and Kurt's. But Mercedes is in the picture now and Quinn knows that - she's aware of that this time. She's not going to even tempt herself with the possibility of Sam, so she just looks up at him, trying to hide the hurt in her eyes. He's busy explaining the differences between Star Wars and Star Trek, but Quinn cuts him off.

"Ask Mercedes to watch it with you,"

She says it in a friendly way, like she's giving him advice and she knows it goes through Sam's thick skull, because his eyes widen in realization. She just closes her locker and walks away, giving him a brief smile. She's proud of herself. If it had been junior year Quinn, she would've accepted Sam's invitation and probably would have tried to find some way to kiss him. So yeah, she's really thankful that she's grown up the past year and that she knows not to put herself in a place where she could hurt herself and other people.

Quinn makes it all the way to her car and out of the school parking lot before she bursts into tears.

Being proud hurts.

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><p>Joe Hart asks her to prom.<p>

She doesn't even know him that well, except from meetings with The God Squad, which she stopped going to after Mercedes and Sam started dating. But Joe is nice and sweet and he's just a sophomore, so Quinn knows he's not going to try anything.

So she says yes.

Prom is a million times better than last year. She's done obsessing over that stupid crown and she doesn't need to beat Rachel at anything and she doesn't need to keep a close eye on Finn. Instead, Quinn spends her night dancing with her closest friends. They announce prom candidates and even though she didn't campaign this year, her name is called out, so she scurries up to the stage and stands in between Tina and Santana. She sneaks a peek at the boy candidates and her heart does that involuntary twisty thing when she sees Sam, standing there all awkward and handsome in his three-piece suit. She briefly wonders how he got the money for it, but figures Kurt and Finn probably chipped in.

She also notices that Mercedes isn't nominated.

She tries not to smile too hard at that, because when it comes down to it, Mercedes did take her in when she was pregnant and the girl has always been a great friend to Quinn. Still, it's the little things like this that make her slightly relieved, these moments when she catches Sam by himself. Because lately, Sam and Mercedes have been more attached at the hip than usual and they're talking less and less and Quinn just feels really left out of the whole thing, even if she knows she's not a part of it in the first place. Oh, they're still _friends_, but somehow, it's just not the same anymore.

Quinn's not expecting her name to be called and it isn't, so she just claps and cheers happily as Figgins places the sparkly piece of plastic on top of Tina and Mike's heads. They dance the night away and she's just the happiest she's ever been since the whole Shelby/Puck/Beth drama. She twirls in her pretty dress, saves dances for Puck and Joe, shakes her hips with her Santana and Brittany.

"Can I get a dance?" the voice comes out of nowhere, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she expects it. She turns around, faces him with a smile, and laces her fingers at the back of his neck, pulling him in close enough.

"Hey, Sam,"

"You look beautiful tonight, by the way," he mumbles lazily. His lips are dangerously close and Quinn can feel his breath on her neck and it's making her shiver in all the right places.

"Thanks. You look handsome," she replies out of courtesy.

"How are things going with Teen Jesus?" he asks and Quinn bites her lip, trying not to laugh at Joe's nickname, but it's just ironic because he really is like Teen Jesus, though. If Jesus ever rocked the dreadlocks look, that is.

"He's just my date," she giggles.

"Looks like he wants to be something more," Sam's voice isn't threatening and it's not mean in any way, but Quinn notices there's a slight edge to it. Like there's a scowl to his tone of voice, some form of disapproval. She doesn't let herself think it though, not even for a second, because really, she can't afford to get her hopes up about him anymore. So she pulls back a little, searches for something in those green eyes of his.

It makes Quinn so confused. Why is he doing this? Why is he acting protective and jealous when he's dating someone else? She tries to reason it, tells herself that Sam's just looking out for her, like he always does. Like a _friend_ does. But he pulls her in closer, squeezes her hand tighter, runs his thumb up and down her back for a short second. The song is over before she can say anything back to him and just like that, he drops an unexpected kiss on her forehead and leaves the dance floor. Quinn stands there, dumbfounded and completely blindsided because…well, what the fuck just happened? That wasn't friendly, that wasn't some platonic warning to stay away from the sophomore with the dreadlocks – that felt like jealousy and protectiveness and want.

Quinn stares at the spot where Sam stood, before she realizes she needs to get her feet moving off the dance floor, or else people are going to think she's gone mental. The truth is, she does feel a little crazy. Like the world is just spinning and tilting and it gets too much, so she immediately decides she needs some fresh air. She runs past Finn and Rachel, ignores Joe completely, and sidesteps Artie and Sugar without an explanation. But when she finally pushes open the doors and feels the cool night air hit her shoulders, it's like being doused with cold water.

Because Sam and Mercedes are there, sitting on the school steps, holding hands and touching foreheads and exchanging sweet kisses and it takes Quinn all her strength not to just throw up or start screaming right then and there.

Yeah, that _definitely_ hurts.

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><p>Sam and Mercedes break up.<p>

Quinn finds out right after a meeting with her English teacher about her final paper. She's walking towards her car, thinking about how she can't wait to get out of Lima, when she spots Mercedes a couple of feet away, standing over a trashcan and tossing in pictures, one by one. Curiosity gets the best of her and she walks over to her friend, but it's only when she sees who the pictures are of that Quinn wishes she never made the effort to see what was wrong.

"We broke up," Mercedes is calm, collected, and blasé. There's a tinge of sadness in her voice, but it's bittersweet, as if she knows it was coming all along. Quinn just stares at the discarded pictures in disbelief because honestly, when Sam broke up with her (even though it feels like ages ago), Quinn was a downright mess. She had cried, kicked things, thrown things, broken things – she was nowhere as calm as Mercedes is now.

"I'm sorry," she offers her apologies because she's really not sure what else to say. Watching Mercedes throw pictures into a trashcan is sort of disheartening and for some reason, Quinn actually feels guilty. Like it's her fault, somehow. Like she willed the breakup to happen, with all those bad thoughts she's had in her mind about the two of them.

"It's okay. It was a long time coming," Mercedes throws the last picture in – one of Sam in mid-impression – and turns to look at Quinn. "I'm going to New York and he's…he's not," she says it breathlessly, inhaling deeply and then shaking it off, as if she's trying to convince herself that it's right. Quinn recognizes that look all too well.

"Oh,"

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><p>They're finally high school graduates.<p>

It's a crazy, surreal feeling and Quinn doesn't know how to describe it, but she's pretty sure it's the best rush in the world. She just can't stop smiling because she did it - she actually graduated with a perfect GPA and she got into Yale and things are finally happening for her. Her mom hugs her and congratulates her and it's the closest she's felt to her mother in years. Quinn takes pictures with everybody, even posing for one with Sam, their heads tilted towards each other, their blonde hair melding into one shade. It's a picture she'll keep for years to come; she knows that even before the flash goes off.

Sugar throws the seniors a celebratory party that night and in true Sugar Motta fashion, it's an absolute rager. Her dad lets her use their house instead of Breadstix and it's spectacular; all red and white decorations with a huge banner that reads, _"Congratulations, seniors!"_ Red cups are everywhere, the music is crazy good, and Quinn is having a really good time. She takes a couple of drinks because fuck it, it's a party and she's done with high school. She stumbles into the kitchen and pours herself another drink, but before she can even take a sip, she's dragged downstairs to play beer pong with a bunch of people. It ends up being her and Tina against Mike and Sam and it's so incredibly useless because they're all wasted before they even started the damn game.

They still manage to beat the boys, though.

Quinn is falling all over the place and she knows she needs to find a place to sit down, but Sugar's house is so big and there are too many rooms, so she opens the first door she finds, checks that it's empty, and lies down on the couch. The room smells of books and leather and it's silent, a nice kind of peaceful quiet for a few minutes. That is, until Quinn hears the door creak open and she flips out, screaming.

"It's me! It's just me!" Sam cries, his hands up in surrender.

"Why are you scaring me?"

"I didn't know you were in here!" he comes closer, sits down next to her, and after a pause, Quinn picks up a pillow and whacks him in the arm.

"There, we're even," she sighs, leaning back against the couch.

"Okay," Sam shrugs. "Hey, you think they have comic books in here?"

"Shut up," Quinn rolls her eyes, but a giggle rises in her throat and she just playfully hits him in the arm again. It's nice, talking to him like this again. Even after the awkward situation at prom (which they never spoke of) and Sam's breakup with Mercedes, Quinn likes the fact that they can still stay friends. Maybe it's a twisted version of a friendship, but for now, it's all she really needs. "I'm sorry about Mercedes," she blurts out. She doesn't know where that comes from, but it needs to be said.

"It's not your fault. Things don't work out," Sam shrugs. "I mean, look at us," he gestures.

"Sam, you and I were different," Quinn says, dreamily. The entire world sort of fades away, melts into this blurry vision of what she once knew. She's really never been this wasted before and she knows Sam hasn't either, because his speech is slurred and his head keeps falling over to one side, like it's struggling to stay up, and it's worse than it was at Rachel's party in junior year. But it's one of those conversations that needs to happen, that can only happen honestly, and if all it takes is Quinn and Sam getting wasted, then so be it.

"Well, we loved each other, right?" his question is harmless, but somewhere in the back of Quinn's mind, a red light goes off. It dims right away when she lets her head fall to the side and sees his face right in front of hers. The last time they were this close was during prom and she can't believe it, because he still makes her feel the same way she did back then.

"Yeah, we did,"

"So how come we didn't work out?" he asks, almost whines. Quinn sighs; because that's the question she asks herself everyday, only to have the same answer slap her in the face.

"Because I cheated. Because I didn't appreciate you," she says in one breath. He looks right at her, eyes wide and trusting, and Quinn automatically feels like she doesn't deserve it. Because that's the truth - she doesn't deserve his forgiveness, she doesn't deserve his friendship, she doesn't deserve him. She's hurt him and she doesn't understand why he doesn't push her away like anybody else would have done.

"But Mercedes didn't cheat and we still didn't work out," Sam points out, confused.

"I know. I just…people screw up sometimes. Our hearts lie to us or whatever," she waves her hand dismissively in the air and Sam grabs it, interlaces their fingers together and she's taken aback because the gesture is so…intimate. He rubs his thumb across the back of her hand, pulls it closer to him, and presses a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist.

"Sorry," he slurs, running a hand through his hair. He takes a big sip out of the cup that sits on the side table. Quinn isn't sure where any of this is going, so she grabs her own cup and throws it back, feeling the vodka burn her throat and numb her thoughts.

"Sam, I…" she doesn't know what to say. It feels good to have his lips against her skin and they're so close, in an empty room, and Quinn would be crazy not to take a chance, right?

Right.

She kisses him, just grabs his face and parts his lips with hers. It's sloppy and misguided because they're both drunk, but it's sweet and sincere and they taste of alcohol. She doesn't even register what she's doing, all she knows is that his hands are all over her body, sending fireworks across her skin, making her feel more alive than she's ever felt before. Her legs are tangled with his and they fall back onto the couch, Sam's arm supporting his weight so he's hovering above her. They don't have time to speak, to ask if it's okay, because all Quinn is aware of right now is the fact that Sam's lips are biting at her neck and then ghosting over her collarbone and she just never wants it to stop. She tugs at his jeans and he pulls off her dress and really, there's no going back now.

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><p>They stop talking.<p>

She doesn't know how or why it happens, but truthfully, everything is coming at her so fast that she can't afford to stop and figure it out. Yale is coming, her future is coming, and that's what matters. And with only two more days until she heads off to New Haven, Quinn is busy doing everything else but think about Sam. That is, until Rachel stops by her house to visit.

"He asked about you today," the brunette says, perching herself at the edge of Quinn's bed.

"Yeah?"

"He asked how you were doing. I said you were fine," Rachel glances around the room, noticing the mess that comes with trying to pack your life into several boxes. "You are fine, right?" her voice is tentative, as if she doesn't want to overstep some boundary. Quinn just sighs, places three leather bound books into a box. Is she fine? How the hell is she supposed to know?

She didn't plan on sleeping with her ex-boyfriend the night of her graduation. She didn't plan on waking up in his arms the next day, completely and absolutely content feeling his chest rise and fall with every breath he took. She didn't plan on sneaking out before he could wake up, just so she wouldn't have to break down crying when he opened his eyes.

"Yes, I'm fine," she lies, right through her teeth.

"Okay," Rachel nods once. There's silence in the room, which is usually unheard of any time Rachel Berry is around, but it's a nice kind of quiet. She helps Quinn pack up more of her stuff and then gives her a hug goodbye, tells her she'll be back in the morning.

Quinn watches her leave from her bedroom window, watches Rachel happily get into the car and give Finn a kiss. It makes her heart ache a little, because Rachel is getting the dream she always thought she'd have.

But no, Quinn has new dreams now. Better dreams.

She finishes packing up the rest of her books, shuts the boxes and labels them neatly. Time passes and before she knows it, the sun is setting and she takes a deep breath, fighting back her tears. Quinn never thought she'd say it, but she's going to miss Lima. It's home. It comes back to her in little snippets, like when she's in the middle of pushing a heavy box to the side of the room and she notices a picture of the Glee club she forgot to take down. Quinn just stares at it, her body going numb, when she hears someone clearing their throat behind her. She spins around, scared out of her mind, because her mother is out for the day and nobody else is supposed to be over – besides, Quinn is pretty sure she asked Rachel to lock the front door when she left.

"Um, hey," he looks around the room sheepishly, running a hand over the back of his head and leaning on the doorframe. He's uncomfortable, she can tell.

"What in the…Sam?" she says, a little dumbfounded, because she really didn't expect him to show up.

"The one and only," he shrugs, crosses the room and sits on her window seat.

"What are you doing here?" she doesn't sit next to him. Maybe it's because she's afraid of what might happen, maybe it's because he looks really adorable, but whatever the case is, she just doesn't. She can't let her heart get tied up and twisted, especially not now.

"I can't…I can't let you go without saying goodbye," his eyes are shining bright and he's wringing his hands together nervously.

"Sam, I'm not leaving until the day after tomorrow,"

"I know, I just didn't want to say goodbye in front of everybody," he shrugs again, licking his lips. "About graduation night…"

"We don't have to talk about that," she holds up her hand to stop him without missing a beat. She doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want to relive it. It's just a bittersweet memory to both of them now and when she looks him in the eye, she knows that it's what he thinks, too.

"Quinn, I'm just trying to say I'm sorry," he huffs a little and she keeps quiet, taking his words in. What does he have to be sorry for? It was one night, one impulsive night. It couldn't have meant something.

"Sam, we were both lonely. And drunk," she explains.

"And totally hot for each other," he adds and Quinn suppresses a giggle. It's enough to make her cross the room and sit next to him, her shoulder touching his.

"That too," she smiles. "But I'm going to Yale and you're going to be in Tennessee. It was one night that we needed each other. And I'm glad it was you and not some stranger," she sees his knuckles turn white and a part of her feels happy that he's still overprotective of her.

"We were good, right?" he turns to face her, his green eyes sad.

"We were perfect together," she murmurs, resting her forehead against his. They stay like that for a few moments, Quinn just relishing the closeness, because even if it's bittersweet, Sam is still the most comfortable human being to be around. She feels safe, loved, and protected with him.

He pulls away first, gets to his feet and pulls her up with him. Quinn lets him crush her against his chest and she breathes him in, committing the way he smells, the way he feels, to memory. When they pull apart, she notices tears falling down his cheeks and then he reaches up to wipe away her own tears – she hadn't even realized she had been crying.

"You're going to do amazing things, Quinn. Yale isn't going to know what hit 'em," he whispers it into her hair, close to her ear, and she chokes back a sob. Somehow, she never thought a goodbye with Sam would be this heartbreaking or this painful.

"Stay in touch, Sam,"

And then he's gone.

And it still really hurts.


	2. It Hurts: The Return

**So, I've decided to turn this into a collection of random drabbles and oneshots for Sam/Quinn. Just a place to put all the shorter stuff. Enjoy! :)**

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><p><strong>SUMMARY: Quinn and the rest of the New Directions return to Lima after two years away at college. Sam brings along an unexpected guest. Can be read as a stand-alone or a continuation of the previous oneshot. <strong>

**Please read & review! :) Xoxo.**

_**2. The Return**_

When she opens the front door, it all comes back.

This house has so many bad memories that it sort of chokes her, but she just takes a deep breath and tries to let it all go. Besides, it's different this time around. Quinn's mom is living somewhere in Florida with her new husband, her dad is in Texas, and her older sister has pretty much dropped off the planet. Surprisingly, her family is only good for one thing, and that's leaving their house in Lima to Quinn. And okay, it doesn't make up for the years of neglect and getting disowned at the age of sixteen, but it's a small step towards being civil with each other.

It's definitely weird being back in Lima after two years in New Haven. Things are different now - good different. Her hair is a little shorter, her wardrobe slightly reinvented, and for the first time in a while, she's not dating anybody. But when she steps into her old bedroom, Quinn starts to feel herself go back to high school. It's not like she voluntarily wants to go back to all of that, because really, who needs all that drama?

She's just afraid.

It's the first time everybody from high school (at least, the people who matter) is back in Lima and they're here for the whole summer, basically living in their old houses and she really can't be the only one to think it's a little weird. Plus, what if things aren't the same? She can't even remember the last time she's talked to Santana or Brittany and she doesn't even know if Mike and Tina are still together. Quinn's mind settles on one person, and it's like the smoke clears, because all of a sudden, she sees the shaggy blonde hair and bright green eyes and that mouth. Her heart twists in this familiar, tragic sort of way and she's starting to think that maybe too much has changed in two years.

'_Stay in touch, Sam.'_

The words bring Quinn back to reality – that being back in Lima this time around means running into him and frankly, that scares her a lot more than it should. Because even though Sam sends emails and birthday cards, she doesn't return the favor. Not once in two years and yes, that makes her a total bitch. She knows that. She's a horrible person for not keeping touch and for not even trying, especially with Sam, because Quinn promised she would.

Then again, Quinn has a knack for breaking promises.

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><p>"So, I don't know if you knew, but I thought I should tell you, anyway," Rachel Berry sprinkles a little parmesan on top of a complicated pasta dish, her teeth biting her lower lip nervously.<p>

"Tell me what?" Quinn asks, resting her elbows on the kitchen island. She's fucking bored, because even though she's over hating Rachel, the girl still talks non-stop and for the last hour, it's been all about Finn and New York.

"Sam is back in Lima," the words that come out of Rachel's mouth don't really phase Quinn. She knows that already, so why is Rachel telling her again?

"Okay, great,"

"And there's…other stuff, too," Rachel's not telling her something, but before Quinn can ask what the other stuff could be, the doorbell rings and a whole bunch of people walk in. In the bustle of it all, Quinn shoots Rachel a questioning look, but the tiny brunette (who clearly hasn't gone through any growth spurt over the past two years) just dismisses it with a wave of her hand that makes Quinn want to revert back to head Cheerio mode.

Instead, Quinn goes to hug Tina and squeals when she sees Brittany and Santana. She appropriately blushes and twirls in her floral dress when Kurt and Blaine compliment her and lets herself get crushed against Mike's chest when he pulls her in for a bear hug. It's surreal to see these people again, these people who know her at her best and at her worst and somehow, manage to find a way to love her through it all. It's cheesy and sappy, but when it comes down to it, the New Directions are her family. And okay, she knows a lot of families don't date each other's boyfriends, but she never said they were normal.

They're destructively dysfunctional, at best.

While they wait for Rachel to put the rest of dinner on the table, Quinn sort of huddles in between Santana and Tina, across the room from Mercedes, who keeps texting her new boyfriend, which they all tease her about. It's nice and she's not sure why she was so worried in the first place – they all slip back into their old ways easily and she could get used to all this. So when the doorbell rings, Quinn just leans back in the couch and sips her wine and laughs with the girls.

Until he walks into the living room and all hell breaks loose.

At least, that's what it feels like. All Quinn is aware of is the rest of the room leaping to their feet to envelop him in their arms, because aside from Sugar and Rory who are actually a year younger than all of them, Sam Evans is the unofficial baby brother of the group. That is, if all baby brothers looked like they belonged in an X-rated Abercrombie & Fitch ad.

"Hey!" he's standing right in front of her, his arms stretched out for a hug, and Quinn is honestly speechless, so she just lets him pull her into his arms. She makes the mistake of breathing, because all of a sudden, his scent fills her nostrils and oh my god, it really is just like high school again.

"Hi," she breathes out, but he's already letting her go and Quinn immediately misses his warmth. She just shakes her heard at herself and vows to re-evaluate her life when she gets back home, but all of a sudden, she feels a shift in the air.

And that's when she sees the other girl.

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><p>She's beautiful. Tall, with legs that go on for days, and the brightest, bluest eyes – the color of the clear ocean on a really good day. Her laugh sounds like bells, her words are tinged with a slight Southern accent, and she can suck down a beer as easily and as quickly as the rest of the boys. She's a talker, but not annoyingly so, her name is Kailyn and of course, she's blonde – long, beachy waves that flutter around her shoulders, strands of honey golden hair that falls and frames her gorgeously sculpted face perfectly.<p>

Quinn immediately hates her.

"I was fixing up the truck at my parent's house last summer, when she comes around, asking where my mom was," Sam drapes an arm casually over the back of Kailyn's chair and smiles down at her. "Turns out she's been babysitting Stacey and Stevie while I was at college,"

"They're such sweet kids," Kailyn grins, fiddling with the top of her beer bottle. "I'd seen him around the campus before, but didn't really put their last names together. Imagine my surprise, when I found out Stacey and Stevie's brother was _the _Sam Evans," smiling, Kailyn pecks Sam on the cheek and rests her chin in the palm of her hand, while he plays with the ends of her hair.

Maybe it's something about how personal the whole scene in front of her is, but Quinn grips her knife, willing herself not to fling it across the table. She doesn't know why it bothers her so much and she hates that, too. She also hates Rachel a little bit for not trying harder to tell her earlier. It's a whole big mess of hate.

"_The_ Sam Evans? He's just Trouty Mouth to us," Mike laughs, shoveling a huge piece of pasta into his mouth. Quinn takes a quick look around the table and notices that everybody's basically fallen in love with Kailyn and Quinn doesn't even blame them.

"Well, he's kind of a big deal over at Tennessee State. The Tigers are blowing it up, thanks to him," Kailyn explains. The fork stops somewhere between her plate and her mouth and the realization comes at her fast. _'Oh god, she knows about football,'_ Quinn thinks.

'_Kailyn, 1. Messed up ex-girlfriend slash random hookup before college - 0.'_

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><p>Rachel invites Kailyn out with them.<p>

Which basically, makes Quinn want to stab them both repeatedly. But she doesn't know how to do that without ruining the Lopez's white carpets and Santana's already made her promise to be normal and calm. And okay, Quinn is worldly and an Ivy Leaguer and an independent young lady, so she should be classier and more sane than she actually is.

But when Quinn sees Kailyn and Rachel hug like they're old buddies, she's doing everything in her power not to throw her wine glass in Kailyn's beautiful face. Who has perfect bone structure and works on her family's farm part-time, anyway?

"So, Sam tells me you're at Yale. That's amazing, I bet New Haven is gorgeous during winter," Kailyn's voice is sweet and confident all at the same time and it takes Quinn a second to register that Sam's girlfriend is actually talking to her.

"Um, yeah, it's great," she shrugs.

"What are you majoring in?"

"English Literature," Quinn knows she should be nicer and not answer in such a clipped tone, but she can't help it – it's like the words just spill out of her mouth involuntarily.

"Oh, wow. Have you gotten into any poetry lately? I was pretty much obsessed with Robert Frost when I was in high school," Kailyn giggles and at the mention of Frost, Quinn perks up, but she recoils almost immediately. It's annoying that this girl's favorite poet is the same as hers and it really makes Quinn angry, so as juvenile as it is, she sticks her chin in the air and says in the haughtiest, bitchiest voice she can muster -

"I think Frost is overrated,"

"Oh. Well…to each their own, I suppose," Kailyn falters and bites her lip and there's a beat between them, before she turns to talk to Tina instead.

Quinn wasn't the head cheerleader in high school for nothing.

* * *

><p>"I don't think you like Kailyn,"<p>

Brittany just blurts it out one afternoon, while some of the girls are hanging out by the pool at the Fabray house. It's not like Brittany is stupid. True, she's not the brightest, but she's a wise young woman. And recently, the stuff that comes out of her mouth sounds more random, if anything. Plus, she's really observant, so most of what she says actually has value. The point is, when Brittany says it, Santana and Quinn both turn to look at her in disbelief.

"She's just not my cup of tea," Santana says lazily, fiddling with the ends of her hair. "Too angelic, but that's Trouty Mouth's type,"

"Oh, not you, San. I'm talking about Quinn here,"

"What!" Quinn nearly chokes on her lemonade, before sitting up and adjusting her sarong around her waist. "Kailyn is a perfectly nice girl," she declares.

"You and Sam loved each other, so a part of you feels like he'll always be yours," Brittany shrugs her shoulders, her eyes glassy and sort of complacent. The thing is, she's right. It's not like Quinn expects Sam to be magically available when she is. That suggests that she's using him as a substitute or a backup and that's just trashy. And despite the murderous thoughts that go through Quinn's mind, Kailyn really is a nice girl, so in retrospect, Quinn doesn't know why she's so damn jealous of the whole situation.

"Britt, that's…"

"It's true, Fabray," Santana adds in her last two cents, before plugging her earphones in and drowning the rest of the world out. Quinn just looks at both of them flabbergasted and wanting to deny the whole thing, because even if she thinks that Sam would always be around, she doesn't need other people knowing it.

"I'm sorry," Brittany's voice drops to a whisper and the look in her eyes is sympathetic and almost…pitiful. That hurts more than anything, because Quinn doesn't want to be pitied. She has a good life, damnit.

But then again, she can't help feeling a little sorry for herself, either.

* * *

><p>She gets roped into taking Santana's little puppy out for a walk.<p>

It's not like she minds it, because puppies are cute, so she conjures up this movie montage in her head that desperately requires a floral skirt, a hair ribbon, and an ice cream cone. Quinn doesn't do this often, but every once in a while, she likes to think that something amazing will happen to her if she creates the right scene. It's probably thanks to her obsession with classic films, but the thought of running into someone who could potentially change her life in a place as common as the park makes her really excited.

Of course, the universe has a way of kicking her in the ass.

Because she ends up running into Sam. They're civil to each other and she's not sure how the conversation ends up about him buying her a drink, but the next thing Quinn knows, he's handing her a cherry slushie (it's safe to say the other ex-Glee clubbers haven't gotten over their fear of the icy drink as quickly as they have). He pays for both of them and Quinn just smiles to herself, because it's nice that he can afford these little luxuries now. His family is doing so much better and even though she's never doubted it, it's great to see the Evans' really pull through together.

"So how'd you get stuck with dog-walking on such a nice afternoon?" he asks, running a hand through his damp hair. It's shorter, cropped closer to his forehead, but still shaggy in the front somehow and as much as she hates to admit it, it drives her crazy. But like, in the best way possible.

"Santana was nursing a hangover," Quinn deadpans and Sam throws his head back, laughing.

"Let me guess…Puck?" she nods and he just chuckles. "Yeah, I left the house before he got back this morning. Needed to get a run in,"

"I'm surprised you didn't drag him out with you. Aren't you two big workout freaks or something?" she teases, tugging a little on the puppy's leash.

"I like to think I have a little more discipline than he does," Sam grins at her and Quinn can actually _feel _her knees start to buckle. It's pathetic and sad, but she can't help it. She knows she's supposed to be stronger and independent, but she just doesn't know how to be that with Sam around.

"How's Kailyn?" the words come out of her mouth before she even realizes it. Maybe she just wants to know if she still has a fighting chance or maybe she wants to be a bitch, but Quinn doesn't even flinch when his eyes lock on hers. Sam may or may not recognize the look, but at this point, she doesn't really care, because she's starting to see that Brittany was right.

"She's headed back to Nashville next week,"

Sam has always been hers.

* * *

><p>They don't break up or anything.<p>

To be honest, Quinn's a little bummed about that. She doesn't want to be, of course. She doesn't want to expect this big, public confession about how Sam dumped his perfect girlfriend to fall in love with his mess of an ex-girlfriend. It sounds too cliché and she doesn't want to want it, but her terrible heart does anyway.

"Do you think you can love two people at the same time?" Rachel asks aloud one day, while they're both browsing through the stacks at the local bookstore.

"How do you mean?" Quinn answers automatically, her fingers running along a cracked spine of an early edition of Walt Whitman poems.

"You know, is it possible to have feelings for two people? Both at the same time?" Rachel presses on, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. Quinn knows it has nothing to do with Finn, so she's not even the slightest bit worried. What most people don't know is that Rachel Berry can be pretty deep when she's not busy shoving her talent in everyone's faces. It's one of the few reasons Quinn likes hanging out with her – their conversations can get pretty philosophical and it's a nice change of pace from listening to Santana bitch about humanity.

"I think you can love as many people as you want, but you can only be in love with one person,"

"So you can't be in love with two people? I think it could happen. Under the most terrible of circumstances, of course, but I think it's possible," Rachel shrugs, skipping over to the next set of books, but Quinn doesn't move from her spot.

Maybe Sam loves Kailyn, but does that mean he could love Quinn, too? She knows it's a long shot and it's probably not even true, but the possibility makes her heart skip a beat. She doesn't know how, why, or when, but somewhere over past few weeks, she's back to her old high school feelings and it's bad. She hates chasing after boys and Sam's the only one she's had to fight these feelings for twice (there was Finn, but he always belonged to Rachel, so that didn't count). Maybe Sam is in love with Kailyn, but that doesn't mean he can't be in love with Quinn, too.

Or maybe she's just being delusional about the whole damn thing.

* * *

><p>She asks him to help her bake cookies.<p>

Santana tells her it's a bad idea, but she doesn't really care. Kailyn isn't in town for the next few weeks and Quinn is going to use that to her advantage – not to steal Sam away, but just to get back on track with their friendship. Because even if she can't have him the way she wants, at least she can still have him as a friend.

Okay, it sounds a lot more convincing when she says it out loud to Santana, but she can't help herself.

She makes Sam measure out the chocolate chips and it's so amusing, watching him. His tongue sticks out in concentration and there's already a streak of flour on his cheek, but when he dumps all the chips into the cookie dough, there's this satisfied grin on his face and he's all bright-eyed. It makes him look about 5 years old, searching for praise or a gold star, but it works on him. Everything just works on him.

"Y'know, I don't remember the last time I actually baked cookies," he chuckles, resting his elbows on the marbled kitchen island. "No, wait. It was when Stacey had to make some for her bake sale. And guess who was forced to help?"

"The big brother?" she laughs, folding the chocolate chips in with the cookie dough.

"And mom, too. I suck in the kitchen," Silence follows, but Quinn doesn't even need to fill it with anything. It's comfortable again between the two of them and she likes it this way. Sometimes it's just better when it's the two of them. Just as she's about to grab the cookie sheets, she sees Sam stick his finger inside the batter. He's already licking it off with a smirk on his face before she even has a chance to yell at him.

"Sam!" she half-laughs, half-scolds, because only Sam could get away with something that juvenile and make her smile instead of roll her eyes in annoyance at it. Plus, he's standing there with this lopsided smile playing across his lips that makes it really hard not to just kiss him senseless. But Quinn knows better, unfortunately.

"Oh, come on. The best part of making cookies is that you get to eat the cookie dough," he argues.

"Then you're just making cookie dough, not cookies,"

"The dough tastes just as good as the cookies,"

"Yeah, but you can't just serve cookie dough at a birthday party," Quinn rolls her eyes, smiling. It's nice that after all this time, even after she ignored his efforts to keep in touch, that they can still be playful and _normal_ around each other.

"Well, have you ever tried?"

"No, but I don't think Tina's going to appreciate me showing up at Mike's birthday party with a huge bowl of cookie dough. And it might be a little unsanitary to just have guests sticking their fingers in it all night long,"

"Try it!" Sam cries and Quinn just has to laugh, because he looks downright ridiculous. He rounds the kitchen island to stand next to her and Quinn is sort of breathless, because this is the closest they've been since being back in Lima after two years. His body so close to hers makes her nervous, but before she can back away, Sam grabs her wrist and coaxes her index finger out of her clenched fist, before sticking it in the cookie dough. She squeals at the contact (both from the cookie dough and from him), but then he's holding her own finger up to her face with this daring look in his eyes.

"No," she shakes her head, trying to suppress her giggles.

"You know you want to," he teases, letting go of her wrist. She back away from him and he comes forward until she feels her back hit the kitchen counter. Sam's cornered her and it's sort of awkward, but so incredibly hot that he's staring her down with this really intense look in his green eyes and she could really just pass out right here.

"What are you guys doing?" Brittany's voice cuts through the silence and Quinn shrieks, causing Sam to stumble back a few feet. His cheeks are flushed, she notices, but she just looks away, because it's honestly just embarrassing to be caught in such a compromising position – and by Brittany, nonetheless.

"Hey, Britt. Just making cookies," Sam says smoothly. Quinn has to admire him for being so cool. High school Sam would fumble awkwardly over a number of excuses, but this excuse works – Brittany takes a couple chocolate chips, pops them in her mouth, shrugs like she doesn't care, and leaves the kitchen.

"Um. We should…I can handle it from here," Quinn keeps her eyes down, completely avoiding Sam. She can tell he's trying to figure her out and it makes her nervous, so she just gets busy with dropping cookies on the trays.

"Quinn?" his voice is deep – the kind of deep that makes her feel that _thing_ in her stomach again. It's terrible, really.

"Mmm?"

"You've got…here," he crosses the room in one short stride and stands in front of her. Slowly, Sam brings his hand up to her cheek and with his index finger, wipes away a streak of cookie dough. _'Oh god, it's that look. He's giving me that look,'_ Quinn thinks.

"Thanks," she mumbles. Sam shrugs and brings his hand down, the finger with the cookie dough on it now in between them. She looks at it, then back at him, and does that for a while, trying to gauge what's supposed to happen next.

Because Sam has a girlfriend who's back in Nashville. And Quinn is happy with her independence. And they're both bad for each other, in the best way possible. And hooking up with your ex is sort of overplayed.

But that doesn't stop her from licking the cookie dough off his finger.

* * *

><p>They can't keep their hands off each other for the next week.<p>

None of their friends know, but when midnight strikes, Sam sneaks out to Quinn's and they spend the night together. She doesn't sleep with him, but they end up kissing. A lot. And it's still as wonderful and as magical as she remembers it to be. Sam's kisses are sort of like a drug – the kind that makes you want to curl into a corner and just lie there for days. It's a miracle that nobody notices though, because Quinn sometimes thinks they're being really obvious. Like at Mike's birthday, where they play footsie underneath the table all night. Or like at Kurt and Blaine's, where they end up excusing themselves from dinner to go make out in the bathroom.

It really is like being in high school all over again.

Of course, they don't talk about the elephant in the room. It's hard, because Quinn knows he's cheating on Kailyn and that eats him up inside, but at the same time, it's like they physically cannot be apart from each other. He admits it, one night, while they're lying in bed, limbs tangled with each other's.

"I had a feeling all this would happen," he murmurs into her neck. She sighs happily, turning her head so she can face him properly in the moonlight.

"How so?"

"I knew you were coming back to Lima this summer and I think that's why I brought Kailyn along," he frowns in thought. "To sort of make sure I didn't get sucked back into the whole Sam and Quinn vortex,"

"And now?"

"I don't know why I didn't want to get sucked back into the whole Sam and Quinn vortex," he says in mock seriousness. It makes Quinn giggle and she buries her head in his shoulder, breathing deeply, because he's just so honest and perfect and makes her vulnerable enough without being weak.

"It's a pretty good place to be," she concedes. She feels him nod his head in agreement and silence follows them, but in the moonlight, Quinn can make out the worried lines etched across his forehead. It puts her on edge, because even though he's in bed with her, his mind is probably in Nashville with Kailyn. And okay, high school Quinn would probably be seriously jealous and start going psychotic about it, but mature Quinn just feels her heart start to break little by little. But it's not breaking for herself, it's breaking for him.

Because Quinn knows what it feels like to cheat on someone you love. She's also been the one cheating before and she knows how it eats you up inside, consumes you with guilt. And Sam Evans is far too innocent and pure and good to have it happen to him. The whole situation makes her kind of hate herself because if it hadn't been for Quinn, he probably wouldn't have cheated on Kailyn.

"Don't beat yourself up over this," Sam's deep voice pulls her out of her thoughts and she looks up at him, her hair disheveled and unkempt. It's strange how she can care so much about appearances, but whenever she's with him, it's the last thing on her mind.

"What are you talking about?"

"I know you, Fabray," he rolls his eyes playfully and that earns a smack on the arm, but he just pulls her closer to him. "You somehow think this is all your fault. But you know what? And this is going to make me sound like such an asshole…but I think I wanted this to happen," Sam sighs, squeezes his eyes shut for a second, before looking down at Quinn again.

She feels it – the way he's gazing at her, that look in his eyes, how his arms wrap perfectly around her shoulders. It makes her tremble and nearly burst into tears, but in the best possible way. Because this time, it doesn't hurt. Not like it did back in high school when she had to watch Sam and Mercedes fall in love. No, this time is different. She feels loved. She feels protected and safe.

She doesn't feel alone anymore.

* * *

><p>Kailyn comes back into town during the last week of their summer vacation.<p>

Quinn doesn't know if she hates her or pities her, but a part of her just feels sorry. She wants to apologize, wants to make things right, but she doesn't know how. When they're all at a bar for Puck's birthday, Quinn forces herself not to just slam her drink on the counter and tell everybody the truth. And it doesn't help that Sam's in the corner, giving her this apologetic look, while Kailyn is whispering in his ear. She's forgotten how much it hurts, but the universe wins this time.

She remembers. She remembers the stabbing pain in her heart, the ache in her chest, the inability to breathe. She remembers the feeling of getting hit in the stomach repeatedly and it's just so hard to sit back and watch Sam and Kailyn act like they're the perfect couple. But Sam does love Kailyn, that's what Quinn has to keep reminding herself. It's not like they had this abusive relationship or that Kailyn is just some rebound girl. No, what Sam and his girlfriend have is actually real – to the point where they've met each other's parents and gone on vacation together. That's what hurts the most.

Because that could've been Quinn, if she had just kept in touch like she promised.

* * *

><p>They all meet at the airport to say goodbye to Sam and Kailyn.<p>

It's a chaotic group of tears, laughter, and shouting, but for the most part, Quinn hovers in the back. She doesn't want to make a scene, but her heart's not really in it this time. She's not going to sit back and pretend like everything's alright. It's not. She just got Sam back and now he has to go back to Nashville with his perfect girlfriend and it's just a fucked up situation that she wishes she could turn back time and just _not_ lick his finger the day they were baking cookies.

God, what was she thinking, anyway?

"Hey," Sam appears at her side, startling her a little, but she doesn't really move from her spot.

"Hi," she mumbles. It's bratty, but Quinn doesn't want to be happy for anything anymore, not if it means she can't get her own happy ending.

"Quinn, don't do that. Don't shut me out because you're mad," his voice drops to a low whisper and she can tell he's desperate, grasping at anything to keep them both sane.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she stares straight ahead, until she feels him gripping her upper arm. Quinn squeals a little, because he's strong and it hurt a bit, but when she looks up at him, she loses all her resolve.

"Quinn," he pleads. "Don't do this. I can't…I love her, too. And it's not fair that I don't give us a chance," Sam's eyes brim with tears and Quinn knows that they're real and sincere, because let's face it – it's Sam Evans. She also knows that he's not talking about 'Sam-and-Quinn' when he talks about chances. No, this time it's about 'Sam-and-Kailyn.'

The rational part of her knows that the right thing to do is to let Sam go. Kailyn is a perfectly nice girl and they deserve a shot at being happy. But the selfish part of Quinn wants to beat Kailyn because she's better than her. Quinn was there first, Sam is hers and always will be. She knows that Kailyn will figure it out eventually, because Quinn's finally starting to realize just how epic her and Sam's love story is going to be. But that doesn't mean Quinn wants to wait around for Kailyn to figure it out. She wants Sam all to herself _now_, not when everything falls apart for him.

"You're in love with both of us," she murmurs softly, the conversation she and Rachel had ringing in her head loud and clear.

"I wish I wasn't," Sam smiles sadly, tilting Quinn's chin up so she can look him in the eyes. She doesn't want to because it's too sad and it's too unfair and it's too _much_. He doesn't say anything, just tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, kisses her on the forehead, and walks away.

Quinn knows her heart can't handle it, but she forces herself to watch him disappear through the terminal, Kailyn's hand clutching his. _'They do look like the perfect couple,'_ she thinks sadly to herself. Because even though Quinn has all this independence and she's supposed to be a strong young woman, it doesn't make up for the lonely nights. It doesn't make up for the days she spends dreaming about a romantic boy to save her from her old ways.

So maybe Rachel was right. You can be in love with two people at once. But you can only really be with one person. And when Quinn watches the airplane take off into the sky and disappear among the clouds, she knows that Sam is giving that chance to someone else. _'He didn't choose me. Again.'_

It hurts worse than it did in high school, that's for sure.


	3. It Hurts: The Healing

****Final part of this three-shot! The chapters after this will NOT be related to this three-parter. Message me if you have any questions or if it's too confusing. :P****

* * *

><p><strong><strong>SUMMARY: (33) Quinn and the rest of the New Directions return to Lima after two years away at college. Sam brings along an unexpected guest. Can be read as a stand-alone or a continuation of the previous oneshot.****

****Please read and review!****

* * *

><p><strong>3. The Healing<strong>

Over time, the pain fades.

With schoolwork, singing, working, and dancing, Quinn doesn't have time and doesn't let herself think about him anymore. Sam Evans is erased from her present memory and although she sometimes feels that familiar ache in her heart every time she listens to country radio or hears a Bieber song, she can't keep pretending like he'll show up one day and sweep her off her feet. It's just not healthy. After everything that happened between them, after Kailyn and the cheating and Sam admitting he's in love with both girls, Quinn can't keep her hopes up. And maybe it's not realistic, but the point is, Quinn just doesn't let herself care. She's made some big mistakes in her life and for some reason; they were all made when she was in Lima.

So now that she's back on Yale ground, she's pretty confident she'll find some sort of stability. It just has to happen, right? Karma, cosmic fate, coincidence…something great has to be written in the stars for her, she knows it. After all the disasters she's weathered, Quinn is fairly certain that if anybody deserves some good luck, it's her. Her roommate and her Yale friends – logical, practical, and sensible types - all think she's certifiably crazy, putting her life in the hands of the stars, but she keeps quiet and doesn'tsn't tell everybody the real reason why she's trusting the twinkling lights in the night sky more than herself.

Because it's what Sam Evans would do.

And besides, at least she doesn't feel the pain anymore.

* * *

><p>She's lying, though.<p>

Quinn feels it, deep in her bones, when she opens up her email inbox and sees a message from Sam. It's nothing over-the-top romantic, but it's sweet and sincere. It's honest and kind and she clings on to every word, soaking up every last bit of him. It's wrong, she knows that, because he's still with Kailyn, but God, she just really wants to be with him. Instead, all they get to exchange are emails back and forth. They decide to stick to emails, because text messages are expensive and too easy for Kailyn to find. Snail mail letters are too old school and take too long, so they trade emails. Her's are usually about classes, literature, and the latest frat party her roommate is making her attend, in fear of becoming a social outcast among the Yale crowd. His are usually about football, his family, and the nights out he has with his friends, going to bars and parties. He never mentions Kailyn and Quinn's grateful for that.

Still, Quinn can't help bringing it up, so she sits at her desk, tapping her fingers, debating whether or not to mention the K-word.

"Are you emailing loverboy?" Olivia, Quinn's roommate, asks.

"He's just a friend, Livvy," Quinn replies, her fingers flying quickly over the keyboard, hoping the excessive amounts of smiley faces translates over text, pressing the Enter button with more force than necessary.

"Whatever. Can you please get dressed so we can go out tonight?" she asks, hopping off the bed and running a hand through her waves. Olivia Thompson is exactly what Quinn calls a free spirit. She's energetic, bubbly, and incredibly artistic. Streaks of bright blue color her hair and she has a nose piercing - next to Olivia, Quinn looks like a fifth grader.

"Liv, I really don't feel like - "

"No. You are going out, period," Olivia marches across the room towards Quinn's closet and flings the doors open. She starts pulling out clothes, before holding up a short minidress. "And you're wearing this. Chop chop!" throwing the item of clothing at the blonde, Olivia ducks into their connecting bathroom before Quinn can even say anything.

The truth is, every college party is the same. It's in some frat house down the road and it's loud, dance music all the time. Girls are either half-naked in the hot tub or are busy sucking the lips off of a guy who won't remember a thing the next day. Quinn doesn't want to admit it, but she hates these parties. It's cliche and uncultured and she just feels like it's not what a proper Yale student would do.

But Olivia is persuasive, so Quinn slaps on some lip-gloss, shoves her feet into a pair of sky-high heels, fluffs her hair, and hobbles down the stairs to go and try to have a good time.

Her mind is in Tennessee, though.

* * *

><p>"You're Quinn, right? Quinn Fabray?"<p>

She doesn't recognize the voice, but turns around at the sound of her name. It literally feels like someone's punched her in the stomach because standing in front of her is quite possibly, the most gorgeous man to ever walk the planet. He's holding a red plastic cup (just like everyone else at this party), dressed in dark jeans and a white V-neck that hugs his muscles in all the right spots. His brown hair is styled short and his eyes are mesmerizing - the kind of melted, deep, dark chocolate that literally makes Quinn's knees want to buckle right then and there. It's been a while since she's had this sort of reaction to a man and it's nice, it's been missing for so long. Still, she knows how these things work.

"That depends on who's asking,"

"Quick, I like that," he chuckles. "My name's Austin," he holds out his hand and Quinn takes it, a jolt of electricity running up her arm when they touch.

'_Fuck.'_

"Hi, Austin," she replies, her tone softer this time. "So...how do you know me?"

"Actually, I know Olivia. She's in my English Lit class," he shrugs. Quinn nods and makes a mental note to ask her roommate just how much she had told him. "You wanna go someplace quiet? This party is..."

"Insane," she finishes, setting her cup on a nearby table. "And yes, let's go," in one swift move, Quinn grabs Austin's hand and leads him out of the party.

She doesn't really know where _that_ bout of confidence came from. She knows it's dangerous to leave a party without telling anybody. She knows that she's only met the guy two seconds ago. But Quinn doesn't care, because for once, it feels familiar. Guiltily, Quinn thinks it feels like how it did with Sam and in some twisted way, she wants to hold on to that. But Austin isn't a replacement for Sam, because Austin is here and that counts for something much more. She pushes the thought of Sam out of her head because it's like she said, she tries not to think about him.

They end up sitting in a nearby park and Quinn learns all about Austin Campbell. He's a football player with a 4.0 GPA, majoring in business and management. He has a younger brother named Jacob and his father passed away two years ago, leaving the Campbell family with a huge amount of wealth in a property development company. He's originally from Pennsylvania, he hates coffee, and he's single.

She never expects to find out that much about him, but that's what happens when you meet someone new - sometimes they creep up on you, but sometimes you spend a few hours with them and just know that they'll change everything. She feels her heart opening up and she tells him all about living in Lima and her dreams to get out of Ohio. She tells him about Beth and Shelby and Puck and she lets him know about the Quinn she was before Yale. When he doesn't flinch or run away, she's surprised. He's kind and sweet, takes her hands in his, and just plays with her fingers. It makes her melt, because it's been so long since anybody's touched her in that way - the intimate, soft, gentle way. And the best part is that Austin is actually here, at Yale. Not a million miles away in a different state with a different girlfriend.

Quinn hates to admit it, but that might make Austin Campbell better than Sam Evans.

* * *

><p>They start to date.<p>

It's wonderful and new and different and Quinn lets herself fall at Austin's feet because he's the closest thing to perfection she has. They go on dates to the city, concerts in the park, and when they don't feel like socializing, they order takeout and pig out in his off-campus apartment. Austin is caring and respectful and obviously, he takes up a lot of her time.

So when she doesn't immediately reply Sam's email the next month, she figures it's just because she's busy. But then the months keep rolling on and the email - complete with smiley face and exclamation marks in the subject field - sits in her inbox. She's read it, of course. Sam tells her about college life and how he's got a gig - playing guitar down at the local bar. But for some reason, she just can't bring herself to reply it. Maybe she's afraid of the things she can't say - stuff about Austin, about how she finally feels like she's falling in love again. He makes her different and what if Sam just doesn't understand it?

She knows it's horrible to leave an email unanswered, but Quinn's done it before. So she ignores it. And she ignores the next two emails that come from Sam. She leaves those in her inbox, untouched and unread. It's weird, but she's starting to feel herself let go of Sam and she's not going to deny that it's a good thing - it is.

Everybody needs to move on.

* * *

><p>"He seems really nice," Rachel clutches her iced latte and twirls a strand of her hair around her fingers. It's spring break and instead of flying to Florida or Hawaii with the rest of her friends, Quinn decides to take a trip down to New York and stay with Rachel. It's a nice change of pace and she really loves seeing her friend in her element - it's so obvious Rachel belongs in the Big Apple.<p>

"Thanks. I'm glad you like him," Quinn smiles, because as much as she hates to admit it, it's just super important that Austin get along with her friends. He's fine with Olivia and the Yale crowd, mostly because he's one of them. But Quinn sort of had to persuade him into meeting her high school friends and she just had to start with the most intense one - Rachel Berry. It was the only logical choice and he was on his way back to Pennsylvania, so she took a leap of faith.

"He's so...All-American," Rachel giggles. "Very cookie-cutter,"

Quinn scrunches her nose; because it's not the first time someone's described Austin like that. She doesn't mind it, but people are always quick to say that she's only dating him because he's on the fast track to either being in the NFL or becoming a millionaire, inheriting his family's fortune. She's never cared about any of that, even though high school Quinn probably would've jumped on him a long time ago.

"How are things with Finn?"

"Good, they're really good. Our apartment is such a mess, though. Sometimes I hate living with a boy," Rachel wrinkles her nose and Quinn stifles a laugh because she still hasn't wrapped her head around the idea that Rachel and Finn are actually living together. But Quinn has to give her friends credit - everybody thought they wouldn't make it, but they proved everybody wrong.

It's a lesson that's hard to learn.

"Have you heard from anybody else?" she asks, bringing her coffee to her lips.

"Like Sam?" his name slips out of Rachel's lips softly and if Quinn weren't paying such close attention, she would've missed it. But she is paying attention and at the mention of his name, her ears perk up and she almost spills her coffee over her lap and God, it's just been so long since she's heard that one syllable.

"I wasn't asking about him specifically," Quinn mutters defensively, because the look on Rachel's face is just so fucking obvious and she hates it when her friend is right.

"Sam is good. Finn gets a few updates from him every few months, but nothing too detailed. He's still with Kailyn, I presume?"

"How would I know?" Quinn huffs.

"I just thought you had talked to him,"

Quinn stares at her, dumbfounded, because honestly, Rachel doesn't - or at least, shouldn't - know anything about Quinn and Sam's relationship. It's not like Quinn broadcasts everything she's doing on Facebook and as far as she's concerned, no one knows about the cheating debacle that happened over the summer. And okay, it's not like Quinn doesn't want to tell Rachel, it's just that Rachel has such a big mouth. And she'll definitely tell Finn. And God knows who Finn might tell. And Quinn knows what the rest of the Glee clubbers are going to think - that it's typical Quinn behavior and they'll roll their eyes because it's overplayed, because Quinn always goes for her ex-boyfriends when she can't have them anymore.

Still, the look on Rachel's face isn't condescending or angry, she just looks sort of...sad. And hopeful. And for a split second, Quinn starts to believe that Rachel might be rooting for Sam and Kailyn to break up all along.

"I haven't."

The confession slices through the air and Quinn lets out a big sigh, because it's like admitting that she doesn't even try with Sam. And it's true, she never does. Sure, she hates the fact that he has a girlfriend and that she can't have him - she's not going to lie, that's a very small reason why she hooked up with him over the summer. But it's harder now, because she has a boyfriend - one that she actually likes. Not love, but likes, and is here with her and it all sort of adds up perfectly. Austin fills the spaces that Sam is supposed to fill and even though it's not a fairytale, epic romance, it'll do for now.

Quinn starts to wonder when she should stop settling for less than what she deserves.

For less than Sam Evans.

* * *

><p>It's well into their summer break when Quinn finally gets the courage to read Sam's emails.<p>

She clicks on them - oldest to newest - and there are about eight, all detailing his life and his worries and his troubles. She smiles at the parts about football, because Quinn's read all the sports news and knows that he's close to landing a spot in the NFL, and that just makes her super proud. She reads the parts about his family carefully and sheds a tear when she finds out his dad was in the hospital after falling off the roof trying to get the Christmas lights down. She laughs when he tells her about Stacy and Stevie and about his friends from college and the football team and for the most part, it's all harmless, G-rated, family-friendly stuff.

Until she gets to the newest email that was sent earlier in the week.

Her eyes are flying over the words so fast that she has to take a pause, has to collect herself, because it just can't be real - not now. But there it is, written in plain sight, in 12 sized font:

_Kailyn broke up with me._

Quinn honestly doesn't know how to process it. She hasn't thought about the possibility of her and Sam finally being together in a long time - ever since she started seeing Austin. But now, it's back on the table. And okay, it makes her scared and nervous and almost mad that it took this long, but it also makes her excited. It makes her smile, as much as she doesn't want to, because she knows Sam's still heartbroken. He loved two girls, sure, but his heart almost always stayed true to the one he was with.

A million possibilities run through Quinn's mind. They could be together again, finally. And to be honest, that's the only thing she cares about - regardless of Austin, of school, of her family...the only thing Quinn honestly, truly cares about is Sam Evans.

After spending so long shutting the memory of Sam out of her thoughts, Quinn lets it all come rushing back and it just hits her, wave after wave of missed opportunities, stolen kisses, and quickening heartbeats. Quinn mentally slaps herself, because seriously, what the fuck is she doing with Austin Campbell? How could she have even bothered with him?

Before she can even process the rest of her thoughts, Quinn's fingers immediately purchase herself a plane ticket to Tennessee and she quickly scribbles a note to Austin that she leaves tacked onto the fridge.

It takes her less than an hour to pack and get out of the house.

* * *

><p>"I just read your emails - I'm so sorry for everything. I'm on my way to Nashville and I'll explain everything. I'm so sorry, Sam."<p>

"Rachel, it's Quinn. Crap, I was hoping I didn't get your voicemail...anyway, you were right. It's been Sam all along, I don't know why it took me forever to figure out...I love him. I'm flying to Nashville tonight. Love you, I'll be safe."

"I'm so sorry, Austin. By the time you get this, I'll be in Tennessee. I love you and thank you so much for everything - but I gave my heart away a long time ago. I'm sorry."

_Sam, my flight's landing at 8.30 tonight. I got your address from Rachel and I've left you a couple of texts and voicemails, so I'm hoping it's not a complete ambush. I just need to see you. Soon._

_I broke up with Austin, so don't call over there. Don't call the dorms, either. I'll be in Nashville, Livvy. With Sam. I know you think it's crazy, but it's Sam._

"Rachel, I'm freaking out! What if he doesn't want me? God, call me back, will you?"

"Sam, I'm in Nashville and...well, I'll see you soon, okay? I...I love you."

* * *

><p>The cab pulls into a dirt road and kicks up all this dirt around them, obscuring most of the view. But from what Quinn can see, Nashville is gorgeous and when she sees the house and the sprawling farm around it, she knows it's exactly where Sam is. He's always been a Southern gentleman, it's one of the things she loves most about him, but there's something else, too. Something about Tennessee that makes it feel like it's so appropriately his.<p>

She tips the cab driver, pulls her suitcase up the gravel road and is about to ring the doorbell, when she hears a shriek from behind her.

"Quinn!" a skinny girl with blonde straight blonde hair that flows over her shoulders from a baseball hat is standing in front of her and it takes Quinn a minute to process who she is.

"Stacy?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm...here to see Sam," Quinn laughs and drops her suitcase; wrapping her arms around the little girl she used to babysit. "It's so good to see you! You're so big!"

"Well, duh," Stacy rolls her eyes. They chat for a little bit, until Stacy's eyes catch something behind Quinn and she mumbles a quick goodbye. Quinn's confused, but turns back to face the house, ready to ring the doorbell. When she sees what caught Stacy's attention, her heart stops.

Sam Evans has not changed.

He's dressed in a black v-neck and khaki shorts, a pair of flip-flops on his feet, and sunglasses dangling from his fingertips. His hair is disheveled, but adorable, a little bit longer than the last time she saw him, but definitely shorter than it was in high school. Quinn takes a deep breath and takes a tentative step closer, because there's so much space and unanswered questions between them.

"Quinn," his voice comes out strangled and raspy, but soft. He's in shock, she can tell, but when a smile lifts the corners of his lips, Quinn abandons everything and just leaps into his arms.

"Sam," she chokes it out, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, clinging to him, because God, he's actually, really, physically here with her and it's all she's ever wanted. He strokes her hair and kisses her softly on the forehead, before pulling away to look at her properly.

Instinctively, Quinn cups his cheeks and pulls him close, their foreheads touching and it's like she's living a dream, because she can actually feel his heart beating and can feel his breath coasting over her lips and it just feels so right and so damn good that she just never, ever wants to leave.

There are so many things to talk about - whether they're dating now, having to deal with Austin and Kailyn, telling their friends, how they'll make long distance work. It's a lot to handle. But unexpectedly, Quinn feels a weight lift off her shoulders, a weight she never knew she had. Her phone is buzzing like crazy in her pocket and she knows Stacy is watching nearby. The night air is starting to give her the chills, but she doesn't care about any of it because for once, everything feels right and safe again in her world.

High school seems like ages ago, cheating on Kailyn seems trivial, and all of it suddenly just seems so clear. She spent years in pain, wanting someone she can't have, trying to be independent, clinging on to a memory everybody told her was gone. But it's clear and easy and so simple, because now that she's finally in Sam's arms, where she belongs, there's only one thing that matters.

It doesn't hurt anymore.


	4. That's How You Know: 1

**SUMMARY: The New Directions and the times they realized Sam and Quinn were perfect for each other.**

* * *

><p><em>1. Rachel<em>

Rachel was actually half-serious when she nicknamed them 'Ken and Barbie.' Sure, it came out of her mouth in a fit of rage when Mr. Schuester was ripping her solo away from her, but the thought that Sam and Quinn look like two perfectly sculpted play dolls has been hovering in the back of her mind for some time now.

They're adorable together, Sam in his letterman jacket and Quinn in her cheerleading uniform. Their blonde hair glitters underneath the twinkling Christmas lights and their fingers are intertwined with each other's – perfectly synchronized, perfectly in step. Rachel hates to admit that, but it's true. The way their bodies turn into each other and the way their eyes meet sort of lights up the whole place. It shows in their stage presence too, but Rachel will die before ever admitting _that_.

Maybe it's because it's Christmas, maybe it's because she and Finn are finally over, or maybe it's because she just feels really lonely, but everything comes to that point in her emotions – that point where she physically cannot push all the pain away and she ends up sitting in a corner of the room, letting it all wash over her. Rachel doesn't like being pathetic and she doesn't like being weak, so she's not entirely sure why she's letting everything slip past her, why she's giving up. And okay, yes, she's jealous.

This time, though, it's not just Quinn she's jealous about. Rachel has always been jealous of Quinn – that's just a fact. But no, this time, Rachel is jealous because Quinn is happy. Happy with a guy who finally gets it, who finally gets _her_. And really, that's all that Rachel wants. She didn't find it with Finn, she didn't even bother trying with Noah, and she certainly didn't find it with Jesse. But Quinn's the smart one and she's gone and found it – her soulmate. Oh, sure, they're only in high school and it's a tough road ahead, but coming from the one person who's dreams are bigger than herself – Rachel knows what a soulmate looks like. And watching Sam and Quinn dance together, close and tight…that's exactly what soulmates look like.

In this case, soulmates look exactly like Ken and Barbie.

* * *

><p><em>2. Blaine<em>

It's not that Blaine doesn't like Quinn and Sam. It's just that he doesn't know them all that well. And plus…well, they seem sort of cold. He likens them to a Christmas card – seemingly perfect on the outside, but not real. So if it wasn't for his boyfriend, there's no way Blaine would force himself to sit through a double date with them. The conversation is engaging enough. Kurt talks about fashion with Quinn and Sam interjects every once in a while, with some random question about faux furs or tuxedos or something.

But Blaine sort of just keeps to himself, because seriously, he can think of a million other places he would rather be than on a double date with Quinn and Sam. He always feels like he has to be on his very best behavior around them and that frustrates him, which also makes him frustrated at Kurt, because why they couldn't have doubled with Mike and Tina…he'll never know. Blaine makes it all through the main course and dessert without falling asleep or rolling his eyes and he knows he's being a little pouty, but he can't take much of Quinn's judging eyes or Sam's constant flexing.

They wait for their respective cars in silence, the snow falling around them. Blaine says the appropriate goodbyes and hops into Kurt's car, slamming the door a little too hard. He waits for his boyfriend to jump into the driver's seat and as he's adjusting the radio, steering wheel, and checking the rearview mirror, Blaine stares outside, watching the snowflakes glisten as they hit the window. He stretches his view further and that's when he sees Sam and Quinn, in quite possibly the cutest moment ever.

Quinn pouts up at her boyfriend, probably complaining about the cold, and Sam dutifully drapes an arm over her shoulders, rubbing them to keep her warm. He presses his full lips to her forehead and she instinctively looks up at him with adoration – it melts Blaine's heart to see Quinn so full of emotion in only one look. Sam ruffles her hair playfully and in the most surprising turn of events (Blaine honestly thought she would've scowled at the gesture), Quinn bends down; packs up a small snowball, and hits her boyfriend squarely on the chest with it. She giggles so loudly that Blaine can hear her from inside the car and then it's a full-on cat-and-mouse chase around the valet area. It's not until Sam grabs her by the waist and turns her around in his arms that the moonlight shines directly on both their faces and for the first time, Blaine feels like he's finally seeing Sam and Quinn. They're both deliriously happy, smiles stretched all the way up their eyes that twinkle with admiration and love for one another. Sam's grip on Quinn's waist is strong and gentle, just like the way her fingers are already tangled in his strands of blonde hair, clutching him closer and closer.

It's like a Christmas card.

Except it's real.

* * *

><p><em>3. Tina<em>

Right now, the entire Glee club is on overdrive. It's a week until Sectionals, two weeks until finals, and then Christmas and New Years is just around the corner. They're all stocking up on coffee and lots of sugar and the craziness sometimes just gets to be a bit too much for everyone.

Her boyfriend, Mike, is stuck in the corner of the choir room, babbling to himself about quantum mechanics. Finn and Rachel are arguing about their duets choreography. Santana is forcing Brittany to write a letter to Santa, while Puck is trying to get Artie to do some complicated jump with his chair. And on one side of the room, crammed against the wall, sits a bunch of tables with sewing machines and rolls of fabric. There, Tina is desperately trying to sew on some intricate beading for the girls' dresses and it isn't helping that Sugar, Rory, and Joe (the people who are supposed to be helping her) are all distracted. Joe's just staring at the sewing machine, sort of pathetically willing it to come to life, while Sugar and Rory are chatting about some sophomore party this weekend. Between that and the music in the background, Tina's just having a really hard time concentrating on anything, let alone costume designs. And when Mr. Schuester walks in and announces that they're going to have to rework the group choreography, Tina is about ready to snap in half.

She almost does it.

Tina – shy, unsuspecting, quiet, Tina – almost jumps up and starts screaming at everybody to just shut up for two seconds so she can finish her damn sequins, but she clenches her jaw and steels herself, because she knows it's just not right. The Glee kids can get really annoying sometimes and she might want to kill them every other day, but the point is that they all sort of have to work together and that frustrates her. She doesn't understand why Finn and Rachel can't use the auditorium to rehearse, because the choir room is way too small to accommodate both choreography class, vocal lessons, and costume design. She opens her mouth to say something, but before she turns around to face the rest of the room, she catches something moving out of the corner of her eye and shifts in her seat so she can see the hallway better.

It makes her smile.

Sam is sort of trapping Quinn against the lockers and they're both smiling in this deliriously happy kind of way. He leans in and whispers something in her ear and she giggles and shyly turns her face away. He lifts her chin with his finger and tilts it to face him and there's this look in both their eyes that just sort of…it gets to Tina. Because in the midst of trying to memorize choreography or trying to study for finals or even just trying to get through the day – Sam and Quinn are incredibly happy. And it makes Tina happy that they're happy. It's really amazing how everybody else is so wrapped up in their own lives and their own drama, that Sam and Quinn have somehow managed to find a sort of peace within each other. _'They're kind of perfect together,'_ Tina thinks.


	5. That's How You Know: 2

**SUMMARY: The New Directions and the times they realized Sam and Quinn were perfect for each other.**

* * *

><p><em>4. Mike<em>

When Mike decides to invite all the Glee guys over to his place for some male bonding time, he doesn't expect there to be so many broken hearts in the room.

It's actually sort of pathetic, really. Aside from Kurt and Blaine, who are happily grilling burgers out on the deck, the rest of them are seriously bummed out. Finn is irritated because Rachel started her Valentines Day tirade early this year and Puck is just cranky because he can't make it to some sorority party this weekend. Artie's in a sour mood because Sugar decided to date a college freshman and under any other circumstances, this would be the perfect time for Mike to stand up and give them all a pep talk, but he's in a bad mood too, which explains why he's pressing the buttons on his xBox controller a little bit harder than necessary.

"This is just sad," Kurt observes, stepping in from the deck with a plate full of burgers. He sets them down on the coffee table and with his free hand, takes a sip from his soda, surveying the sad group. Letting out a tired sigh, he sits next to Mike and fiddles aimlessly with the spare xBox controller. Mike wants to snap at him, tell him that it's reserved for when Sam gets here, but he bites his tongue – after all, it's not Kurt's fault he's in a bad mood.

"I have a hard time believing all the girls made all you guys angry at once," Blaine announces, nibbling on a candy heart. Mike rolls his eyes, because of course Blaine doesn't get it, Blaine is in a loving, committed relationship with Kurt, who's as loyal and rational as…well, Mike doesn't know what, but that's not the point.

'_The point is that Tina's just pissed because I was half an hour late to pick her up. It's not like it was my fault mom and dad were lecturing me,' _he thinks bitterly. Instead, he just shoots Blaine a scowl and turns back to his xBox, muttering under his breath. He can hear Puck, Artie, and Finn do the same – they're all pathetic, sad high school boys with nothing else better to do than to sit around and mope. Somewhere in the middle of his silent, self-pitying session, Mike notices the front door open and close. He waits a couple minutes, but nobody moves, and with the biggest sigh he can muster, he pulls himself off the floor and heads towards the front door. With every step, he feels the anger build up inside of him – he thinks it's unfair that Tina's so mad over 30 stupid minutes because it really, really wasn't his fault. Plus, he thinks he's been a pretty stellar boyfriend so far, so it should cancel out the being late thing.

Whatever.

When Mike reaches the front door, he hears voices coming from the kitchen and suddenly he's incredibly aware that nobody but him and the Glee boys are supposed to be in the house. Taking slow, calculated steps towards the kitchen, he hastily grabs an umbrella and holds it over his head, ready to strike. Before he can burst in and threaten whoever it is, he catches snippets of the conversation.

"I know I'm supposed to be there, but the boys need me right now,"

The voice is familiar and Mike pokes his head around the corner, letting out a sigh of relief when he realizes it's just Sam on the phone. He lowers the umbrella, chuckling softly, grateful that Sam hasn't seen him. He's about to interrupt the conversation, but something about the way his blonde friend is standing, with his back to Mike and oblivious of the intrusion, tells him otherwise.

"You'll have fun with the girls and I'll pick you up in a few hours at the mall. Yeah, I'll go shopping, if that's what you want. I'm not…oh, really?" Sam's voice tilts upwards in a question and he's so predictable that Mike can practically _see_ the smirk on his big lips right now. Mike's debating whether he should just jump in before he starts to hear some seriously gross baby talk between Sam and Quinn, but when Sam's voice drops to a whisper, Mike instinctively strains to hear what he's saying.

"God, I love you, you know that?"

Mike halts.

It's not like hasn't heard Sam say it before. Because really, when it comes to Sam Evans talking about Quinn Fabray, everybody knows that the word 'love' is always chasing her name. But there's something different this time. Maybe it's because the conversation is supposed to be private and Mike knows he's not supposed to be listening. Maybe it's the voice Sam uses to say it…serious and strong, full of conviction and certainty. Maybe it's just that in the midst of all the guys complaining and pouting about their love lives, there Sam is – all calm and self-assured about where he stands with Quinn.

And that makes Mike ridiculously proud of his best friend.

* * *

><p><em>5. Brittany<em>

Everybody thinks Brittany is stupid. Her teachers say that she's not applying herself and the girls on the Cheerios tell her she's a car crash waiting to happen, but Brittany knows they're wrong because she's a person, not a car, and sometimes, there's too much noise in the world. The Glee kids don't think she's stupid, but they just have a hard time figuring her brain out – Artie tells her it's because her mind is special and magical and a place normal people can't really appreciate. Brittany likes the sound of that.

When she breaks up with Sam after Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury's wedding, Brittany stays single for a while. She didn't have a real reason to break up with Sam. After all, they were pretty happy together and he made her smile a lot. But if Brittany's being really, really honest…being with Sam just wasn't the same as being with Santana. When she tells Tina that, she just laughs in that Tina way and then turns on her heel and walks towards Blaine. It doesn't matter, because Brittany's standing by her decision and she's just happy Sam isn't mad. In fact, he gets it – out of all the Glee kids, he's definitely the only one (aside from Santana) who understands how her mind works. So it's nice that she doesn't have to explain it, because telling Sam Evans that you're just not in love with him as much as you're in love with your ex-girlfriend is something that…well, it's something Brittany really doesn't want to do.

She knows that he's hurting a little, she expects that. He stays away from her for a few days and then they start being friendlier in the next month, but even then, she sees a little pain in his eyes. Sam told her one time that he's always fighting for the girl he can't have. Brittany gets it and it really sucks that all the girls he's dated just seem to leave him, because Sam is sweet and nice and he laid out Cheerios for her that one time, so they're pretty much bonded for life.

When Sam runs into her at her locker – literally, he _runs_ into her – he's all breathless and pink in the face and his mouth is huger than normal and it takes Brittany a second to realize that he's smiling and bouncing up and down. He's speaking really fast and it's a little bit difficult to understand, because when Sam rambles on and on, his Southern accent gets stronger and stronger, but Brittany tries her best to keep up. He's saying something about SAT retakes and Avatar and Star Wars and a comic book convention, but in the middle of his long-winded rant, there's a name that sticks out – Quinn. The name sounds almost foreign to Brittany, because Quinn is in Yale now and even though she's really awesome, Brittany just leaves it at that.

And when she asks Sam why he's talking about Quinn, he takes a deep breath and looks her right in the eye – it's his serious face and she knows she really has to pay attention now. Sam exhales and tells her,

"She invited me to visit New Haven and I did."

Brittany smiles, because Quinn's nice and Sam's nice, so it's nice that they're together. She tells him that and Sam shakes his head, taking another deep breath, leaning against the lockers.

"No, we're friends. That's it,"

The way he says it doesn't sound very convincing and Brittany – sweet, innocent, supposedly stupid Brittany – sees a flicker of something else in his eyes. She doesn't ask him about it anymore, though. She lost the right to pry into his life when she broke up with, so she leaves it alone.

When they step into the choir room for Glee club, it's like they're walking in on a private party. All the kids are gathered together and they're all really excited about something, there's a buzz in the air that's just infectious. Brittany walks a little faster towards the group, because she thinks maybe it's a spaceship or a unicorn, but it's not.

"Quinn!"

Sam shouts it, at the top of his lungs and Brittany doesn't know it's possible, but his face literally looks like it's exploding from happiness. And then he's sprinting forward and scooping the petite girl up in his arms and twirling her around and everybody in the room just sort of stops what they're doing. Because Mike and Finn and Rachel and Kurt and Santana and Mercedes…they're all there, too. But it's like Sam only has eyes for Quinn. It's funny, because everybody in the choir room has these really confused, puzzled expressions on their faces, like they had absolutely no idea Quinn and Sam were even talking to each other again, let alone looking into each other's eyes like they are now…but not Brittany.

She hangs back and smiles at them, because it all makes sense now. Even though they don't know it, even though everybody else in Glee club doesn't know it…Brittany does.

Sam and Quinn are made for each other.

* * *

><p><em>6. Ryder<em>

Ryder and Sam are friends. They're not best bros (he knows Sam's like, super-tight with Puck and Mike and Blaine), but they buddy up for stuff in Glee and they're both dyslexic and they're both into working out, so Ryder likes to think they're more than just acquaintances, at least. And when Sam flips out about his body during the Men of McKinley shoot, Ryder gets it. They're kind of on the same wavelength that way.

It's pretty awesome, since he's never had a cool bro before. Jake's his friend, sure, but since he started dating Marley, it's been difficult to get his attention. Plus there's the whole being in love with his girlfriend thing. When Ryder tells Sam that, he doesn't expect a long-winded story about Sam's sophomore year in an effort to sympathize. But he gets it anyway, this whole tale about Finn and Sam and girls named Quinn and Santana. It makes him sort of fascinated with Sam's love life – he's single now, but there's always a trail of girls following him, asking him to do some werewolf impression or something. Sam tells him as much as he can, like how Quinn cheated on him, or how Mercedes just sort of left their relationship, and how Santana just left, period. It's interesting, hearing about how New Directions used to function (or didn't) before they all came in.

When Ryder asks Sam why he even bothers keeping in touch with all his exes, Sam raises his eyebrows skeptically. Ryder shrugs it off and says ex-girlfriends are just ex-girlfriends and they should be left in the past and nothing more. Sam snorts, like Ryder's a little kid who doesn't know any better.

"Sometimes ex-girlfriends turn out to be the best people, if you find it in your heart to forgive them," he says.

Okay, so maybe Ryder_ doesn't_ know any better.

What he does know is that when all the graduates come back, there's a buzz in the air. It's like the choir room just lights up and it's not just the atmosphere, it's the people, too. Brittany smiles wider, Blaine bounces in his seat, and even Finn seems more giddy than usual. It's infectious and it also makes Ryder curious, so he leans over towards Sam and asks him how it feels, having all his exes back in town again. Sam just shrugs, flicks his hair out of his eyes, and makes a noise somewhere between a grunt and a snort.

It isn't until a week later, when Ryder is stuffing books into his backpack after a session with his counselor, when he hears it. It's soft and gentle, but he'd recognize that guitar anywhere. He makes his way towards the sound, being extra careful not to get caught, and when he turns the corner, he sees it.

Sam is sitting on the table in an empty classroom, the door open just slightly, a guitar on his lap. Sitting beside him, Quinn curls her fingers around the neck of the guitar, tentatively placing them on the strings while Sam strums a familiar melody. Ryder knows it's a private moment, but he just can't look away. There's something in them, Quinn and Sam, that makes his heart melt, that makes him…well, believe. They're sweet together, sort of thrown together in this imperfectly perfect kind of way. Maybe it's because Ryder doesn't know much about their past because he wasn't there, but watching them now (half-hidden from their sight), it's like he's finally seeing them both for the first time – cracks and all. And after they both sing out the last chorus of the song, their voices melding together in perfect harmony, Quinn looks up at him shyly. She presses a tentative kiss to his lips and that's when Ryder knows it's time to turn away. He's seen enough to know that Sam was right.

Sometimes exes turn out to be the best people if you find it in your heart to forgive them.


	6. Enough

**SUMMARY: Sam doesn't know how to quit her and she doesn't know how to give him up. And they're both just a little too good at not falling in love.**

* * *

><p>When Santana struts into the choir room with five other cheerleaders, Sam shrinks in his seat a little. He knows that look too well - that determined, fiery, hateful stare that lingers on him longer than necessary. It was only a matter of time before she found out about him and Brittany and now that she's finally here, it becomes all too real.<p>

Santana flips her hair and glares at him pointedly, before announcing to everybody that she's dating some girl named Elaine. He rolls his eyes, because it's so obvious it's all an act to get back at him – most importantly, to get back at Brittany. He knows it's all a defense mechanism - Santana's got the biggest heart underneath all that snark and bite, but for some reason, it's hard for her to actually show it. What makes him mad though, is that Sam can see the way Brittany's heart cracks a little at the announcement of her ex's new girlfriend. It makes him mad because Britt's too sweet and lovable to be hurt like that, especially from the person who broke up with her.

When Santana asks him to meet her in the auditorium, Sam agrees without missing a beat. He's never been the person to back away from her, even when she's hurling insults at him left and right. They just pass over him and he knows it gets on her nerves, how she's incapable of cracking him, but he won't give her the satisfaction.

"Listen up, Trouty," she starts, folding her arms across her chest. "You're going to break up with Brittany and you're going to do it now. She's going to snap out of this little funk she's in, once she realizes how boring you really are and she finally comes to her senses. Do you really think you two are going to last?" she scoffs.

Sam shakes her head, a sigh escaping his mouth. "No," he says simply.

It takes her by surprise, he can tell. She staggers back a little, but even before she can open her mouth to respond, Sam takes a deep breath and steps closer to her.

"You're still in love with her. And she's still in love with you. But you guys tried long distance and it didn't work, so you need to let her go. I know you know that, Santana," he says softly.

"You know nothing," she spits out. Her words are laced with viciousness, but there's sadness in her eyes.

"You think she's in a 'little funk?'" he prompts, using air quotes. "She was in a funk when you broke up with her. You don't get a say in her life, you lost that right when you lost her," Sam shrugs. Santana sort of just blinks up at him confusedly, letting his words wrap around her thoughts. He knows it's hard for her to hear, he knows that sometimes she just can't handle the truth, but he also knows she needs to hear it. Because Santana doesn't deserve to go backwards, she doesn't deserve having to go back to Lima every chance she gets - she deserves New York City and fame and success. Brittany knows it, Sam knows it, all the Glee kids know it, but for some reason, Santana's just afraid to go forward.

He circles her again, taking in the way she stands now, as if all the air and fight has left her body and the only thing that's holding her up is what's left of her dignity. He faces her again and his heart aches for her a little because he's seen glimpses of a softer, vulnerable Santana, but this is the worst (or maybe the best) he's ever seen her get.

"You and Brittany are forever," Sam says, with no trace of disgust or defeat in his voice. It comes out of his mouth naturally, because it's just the plain, cold, hard truth and he's not angry and he's not sad, either. It's just the way it is, the way it's meant to be, and he's learned to accept that a long time ago.

Santana looks up at him, the softest hint of a smile on her lips. "She's lucky to have you," it comes out in a whisper, but in this small, contained world they exist in, it's the closest thing to a blessing he'll ever get.

He nods, squeezes her arm comfortingly, and turns on his heel to walk out of the auditorium. Sam knows he'll have to give up Brittany some time - but not today.

* * *

><p>"How's she doing?" Sam asks, his fingers wrapped around the neck of his guitar, as it lies across his lap.<p>

"Fine. She's trying to get used to hearing Kurt and Rachel sing Broadway show tunes 24/7, but she's alive for now. She says hi," Brittany grins, grabbing Sam's arm to wrap it around her shoulders. She tucks herself in comfortably against his side and his fingers that had been playing chords to a new, undeveloped song just minutes before, starts to mindlessly play with the ends of her long blonde hair.

"Hi right back," he murmurs, dropping a kiss onto her hair. Brittany smells like cocounuts and bodywash, sort of fruity and tropical at the same time. It doesn't smell bad, obviously, but it's strong, just like she is, and it always makes Sam feel sort of dizzy anytime he's within five feet of her.

"Were you working on a new song? I think Lord Tubbington really liked what you were playing," she blurts out, gesturing towards the obese cat on the rug in front of them, who stretches out lazily, completely oblivious to them. Sam chuckles, shaking his head.

"I don't think he's my biggest fan,"

They stay quiet for a while and it's nice, because Sam doesn't really have much to say nowadays and Brittany's been sort of distant ever since Santana finally left for New York and if he's being completely honest, he kind of just can't wait to get out of Lima himself. They're only a semester and a half away from graduation and even though he completely tanked his SATs, he still managed to put together a pretty decent essay with Blaine's help. Sam almost starts to tear up again, thinking about what Blaine and the rest of the Glee kids did to help him with his applications - the video they put together, the late nights they spent crafting the perfect application, and even all the tutoring they gave him for the upcoming SAT retakes.

It's when he remembers moments like those that he starts to feel guilty about wanting to leave Ohio so quickly.

As if she was reading his mind, Brittany turns to look up at him, a frown etched across her pretty, soft lips. "Are you worried about the retakes?" she asks, her fingers tugging at the hair at the back of his neck.

"A little," he shrugs. Sam doesn't tell her that he's actually downright terrified. "I think it'll be okay, though. You guys really helped,"

"I think you'll be okay, too," Brittany presses a chaste kiss to his lips and he closes his eyes, relishing in the way she feels in his arms - she fits there perfectly and the kiss is meant to make him want something more. And when she pulls away, he's meant to feel her absence and he's meant to pull her back.

Instead, he feels nothing.

* * *

><p>On Saturday evening, the Hummel-Hudson's doorbell rings and since Finn is in the shower, Sam races out of the guest room to answer it. People thought it was a little weird that he had hung out with Burt and Carol while Finn was in the army, but the truth was, they had become family to him. And his actual family in Tennessee had agreed that it wouldn't make sense for Sam to transfer schools again, especially in his senior year - besides, he likes McKinley, obviously.<p>

"Brittany?" his eyebrows immediately knit together in worry when he sees the tall blonde girl standing on the front porch. She has a bright pink coat on and her cheeks are all rosy from the cold night, her hair tied up in the standard-issue high ponytail that's required of all Cheerios (if Sam's being honest, he actually really hates those ponytails).

"Hey, sorry to drop in so late. I kind of got lost,"

"From home?" he quirks an eyebrow, stepping aside so she can step into the house.

"From everywhere," Brittany says ominously and Sam cracks a smile, because he doesn't get it, but he sort of does at the same time. "I have to tell you something," she claps her hands together and all of a sudden, a huge grin takes over half her face. It's infectious and she's so luminous that Sam just sort of nods along.

"What is it?"

Brittany sucks in her breath, before letting it out. She shifts her weight from foot to foot and it's only then that Sam notices she might actually be nervous about telling him.

"Santana asked me to visit her in New York over Spring Break,"

Sam doesn't even flinch. He doesn't cringe or protest or even really process it, because...because of course Santana asked Brittany to visit her. They're best friends, they keep in touch and hell, even Sam said it - they're forever. And seeing Brittany try and resist showing how happy she is…well, he's not going to be the one to tell her she can't go. So instead, he says that it's a great idea and with a quick, "Thank you for understanding," and a kiss, Brittany's out the door in a flash.

The fact that he basically encouraged his girlfriend to go visit her ex-girlfriend (who was also his ex-girlfriend, but that's neither here nor there) in a completely unknown city, finally starts to settle over him that night. It doesn't bother him the way he thinks it would have - the way he thinks it's supposed to. After Santana's departure to the Big Apple, something shifted in Sam and Brittany's dynamic. They started out as blonde best friends, then they were two halves of a whole, then Diva week happened - and all of a sudden, they're not even blonde best friends anymore, they're just...friends. Or maybe acquaintances.

He's supposed to be sad about this development. Sam knows he's supposed to at least try to make things work and he knows he's supposed to be torn over losing someone as amazing as Brittany S. Pierce. But nothing comes to him, not even anger. He's just filled with acceptance and resignation, because he's known it all along - Brittany has always belonged to Santana and vice versa.

Sam was just a temporary bookmark in between their epic love story.

It's nearly midnight when his phone rings, scaring him out of his pathetic daydream. Without even bothering to look at the number on the screen, he holds it up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Sam Evans," The voice is familiarly melodic and comforting; it sounds like church bells and maple syrup and brings him back to hot summer nights spent on a too-small porch swing, outside a dilapidated motel room.

"Quinn Fabray," he smiles with his words, a crooked grin that he's reserved for this particular girl for a long time.

"Are you free to talk?"

"Always,"

And he means it, too. Their brief relationship had been cut brutally short because of one stupid mistake Quinn had made, but they've grown since then - Sam left behind his childhood innocence the moment his dad lost his job and Quinn's finally learned to accept what the universe has given her (or hasn't, depending on her mood that day). For a long time, without anybody knowing, Quinn and Sam had kept each other grounded.

"I heard about what happened with Santana," she's trying to keep it light and conversational, but he knows there's something else she really wants to say.

"It's no big deal," he shrugs, even though she can't see him.

"And now Britt's coming to the city during Spring Break..." Quinn trails off, but Sam doesn't respond. He doesn't know how to, because this connection between him, Santana, and Brittany, this thing that seems like a love triangle...isn't even a triangle in the first place. He doesn't know how to piece that thought into words, so he just falls silent and for a full minute, he listens to Quinn's even breathing over the phone.

He hears her sigh tiredly, but thankfully, he doesn't hear any pity in the sound. "I'll be okay," he concedes.

"I know you will," she whispers. He hears movement in the background and for the briefest of seconds, he wonders if she's got someone else with her tonight - a boyfriend or a one night stand or just a friend, but nobody can really tell with someone like Quinn Fabray.

"How's Yale treating you?" he asks, because if he doesn't keep the conversation going, she's going to hang up without saying what she really wants to say. Sam knows her too well, he's memorized her in ways that nobody else has, because nobody ever took the time and care to memorize her. When he thinks of Quinn, he doesn't think of their ex-boyfriend/girlfriend status, like everybody assumes.

He remembers the sadness in her hazel eyes when she sought him out at church and discovered his family was living in a motel room. He remembers the phone calls to Kentucky, the ones that came from her cell phone, but went forgotten - not because he never answered, but because she didn't know what to say, so they just stayed silent, bathing in the comfort that someone cared about them. He remembers the night she showed up at the Hudson-Hummel's house, all the pink hair and crazy eyes gone, replaced by an acceptance and weight that she finally let fall on her small shoulders. He remembers all that, because he wants to and because nobody's ever understood him the way she does, either.

"It's fine," she brushes the question away. "I'm sorry I didn't contribute to the video Blaine made for you," Quinn's voice is small, apologetic, and Sam's lips lift into a smile - he can practically see her biting on her lower lip.

"It's okay,"

"Your retakes are coming up,"

"They are," he nods. "Quinn..."

Sam doesn't know how, when, or why, but all of a sudden this wave of emotion and realization sort of crashes down on him. He's recalling all the times everybody's sidestepped him in the past week, careful to avoid the subject of the SAT retakes because they're afraid he's going to blow up again, like he did during the Men of McKinley calendar photo-shoot. And Brittany already seems to be leaving him behind. And with Quinn all the way in Yale...he misses her. He misses his friend. Especially tonight, because the loneliness is a curse and they both have a horrible, unhealthy, completely similar need to please someone. He needs her so much closer than she actually is.

"You deserve good things, Sam,"

The words fall through the phone and all the way from New York, it's like having her actual arms wrap around him. She hangs up without another word, but Sam doesn't need any more from her.

It's enough, for now.

* * *

><p>When Brittany comes back from New York, she sits him down to tell him the truth. Sam doesn't even let her finish, because he knows what happened - at the very least, he can guess. Brittany and Santana are forever, he tells her that and with a soft kiss pressed to her forehead, he leaves the empty classroom. Artie shoots him a sympathetic look when he enters the choir room for Glee club, but Sam doesn't really acknowledge anyone.<p>

Even if he knows it's time for Brittany to be with Santana now, it doesn't mean that he's not tired of it. He's always getting the short end of the stick - whether it's Quinn cheating on him, Santana dumping him wordlessly for Karofsky, watching Mercedes walk away with Shane, and now Brittany. He's always been the one to fight, he's always been the one who loves more. He's trying to figure out whether that's his best quality or his biggest downfall, when Finn takes his place at the front of the room.

"Alright, now as you guys know, Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury are getting married this weekend," Finn announces and the entire room erupts into a cheer. "They've asked us to provide the music, so I thought we'd have some fun," he grins, and then gestures back towards the door of the choir room. On cue, a line of people walk in and Sam's lets out a huge sigh of relief. He never knew how badly he needed to see these people until now.

Rachel takes the lead, of course, strutting in purposefully, immediately making herself comfortable standing beside Finn. Kurt follows close behind, and then it's Mercedes, who gives him a little wink. It makes him smile like an idiot, but who cares? Mike and Puck jokingly two-step into the choir room together, falling over each other's feet, and Sam really, _really_ smiles now, because he's just downright happy. The boys sit on either side of Sam, locking him in a bro-hug and he's literally thinking, _'Things could not get any better right now.'_

He's wrong, of course.

Quinn walks in last, a sly smile curling her soft lips. One hand is on her hip and her boots make a mesmerizing rhythm against the hard floors. She cocks her head to one side and stands next to Rachel, tossing her hair over her shoulder. It's an entrance worthy of Ryder and Jake's drooling. And before Finn can even announce who they all are, Sam jumps out of his seat, crosses the room in two long steps, and wraps his arms around Quinn, lifting her feet off the ground.

She laughs and he swears, it's the best thing he's heard all day.

* * *

><p>The Schuester-Pillsbury wedding goes off without a hitch and for the first time tonight, Sam can breathe a little easier. He's not like Rachel or Kurt or Santana, he's never just always prepared to perform. And Artie's suggestion to do a mash-up of rap songs for the reception didn't help with his nerves, either. Still, he manages to get through it in one piece and he's glad he can just sit back and relax for a bit. It's been a tough week, with wedding preparations and studying for his SAT retakes. And now that both are over, Sam can definitely relax a little.<p>

He leans back in his chair, letting his fingers tap out a complicated rhythm across the table. He can hear Rachel and Finn belting out another ballad, their voices blending together perfectly. It's nice and familiar and Sam likes it, having all the graduates back. Don't get him wrong, he loves the new kids too, but…well, they're not Puck or Mike or Mercedes or even Rachel. And they're definitely not Quinn Fabray.

"Hey you,"

Speak of the devil.

"Hey," he grins, nudging the chair next to his so she can sit down. She does, crosses her legs and leans forward, her hazel eyes brimming with questions.

"How were the retakes?" she asks, propping her chin in the delicate palm of her hand.

"Fine," he answers, with a curt nod. "How do you like this wedding?"

"It bores me," Quinn sighs, letting out her breath and leaning back in her seat, her leg dangling precariously near his. "Most things do, nowadays," she shrugs, her eyes glassed over in a nonchalant, blasé manner. Sam snorted ungracefully, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, right. You love weddings," he points out. At that, Quinn whips her head back around to face him, her eyes burning with a dull fire. He knows this look too well – this angry, defiant Quinn Fabray who refuses to admit to anything. This is Quinn Fabray with her defences up and it's a version of her that usually causes the strongest man to crumble – except for Sam, of course.

"I hate weddings," she spits out convincingly.

Sam shakes his head, a soft smirk on his lips. She's so full of conviction and pride, it's adorable. And kind of a turn-on.

"Whatever, Quinn," he shrugs, letting it go because there's no point, and goes back to watching the dance floor, where Marley and Jake are re-enacting their hand-jive from the school musical a couple of months ago. Sam winces a little, because Grease kind of reminds him of a simpler time – before Brittany left him and before he failed his SATs. He's trying really hard not to be bitter about it, but every once in a while, it stings.

"Do you miss her?" her voice is soft and small and it makes Sam turn to face her, an easy smile on his lips. This is the Quinn Fabray he's used to – vulnerable, hesitant, and caring. He wishes she'd let more people see this side of her, but he knows it's hard for her and he gets that. Besides, if he's being honest, he kind of likes that he's the only one who understands her.

Sam puffs out his cheeks in thought and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Sometimes. But I know she's happy with Brittany and that's what counts, right?"

"No," Quinn shakes her head, a frustrated expression crossing her face. "What counts is that you get what you want and that you're happy. Are you happy?"

"What I want is for her to be happy, Quinn," Sam sighs, running a hand through his hair. She notices the gesture and her eyes linger on his fingers a little longer than normal, before she blinks out of it.

"You need to be more selfish, Sam Evans," she rolls her eyes, before dusting off her dress and standing up. "Let's get out of here," Quinn holds her hand out to him and he's skeptical at first, but she looks so pretty and fragile and so damn familiar – he already knows her hair smells like strawberries, that her skin smells like vanilla and is soft to the touch. He knows all these things, remembers all these things, and that's why he doesn't even think twice, before intertwining his fingers with hers.

* * *

><p>They end up sitting in the bed of his truck, parked behind Sugar's backyard.<p>

That's where all the Glee kids end up after the wedding reception, dressed to the nines, crashing at the Motta's huge mansion. In the distance, Puck and Kitty are pouring drinks, while Artie leads Ryder, Jake, Joe, and Mike towards the outdoor stereo system. Tina and Mercedes are talking to Marley and Unique, and Brittany and Santana are huddled together on a lounge chair. Nobody knows where Finn and Rachel or Kurt and Blaine are and when Vanilla Ice starts playing and Mike starts dancing, pulling Brittany up to join him, it starts to feel like the old times. But better, because the new kids are here, too.

"Sometimes I wish I never left," Quinn murmurs, tucking her legs comfortably underneath her. She looks up at the night sky, dotted with stars, and lets out a deep breath. Sam takes another pull from his beer, tapping his foot against nothing in time to the country song that plays from his truck's radio.

"Yale is where you're meant to be," Sam says, forcing back the words he really wants to say – that maybe she's right, that maybe she shouldn't have left.

"I guess. I have opportunities here too, you know," Quinn points out.

Sam flips his hair out of his eyes and he notices the hitch in her breath, before turning to face her directly. "You'd have opportunities anywhere, Quinn," he tells her, because it's true. She could be in Alaska and still make a name for herself. "I've just got to pass these retakes and then go to a community college…if at all," he shrugs, bringing his face up towards the sky.

She punches him playfully on the arm and tells him that he'll do fine on the SATs. Silence fills the air and Sam hums along to the Kip Moore song on the radio and he's not really sure how long they sit like that, but suddenly, he's incredibly aware that Quinn is inching closer and closer to him. He holds his breath, because he's not really sure what's supposed to happen and he can hear Kurt's car pulling into the driveway and he can hear drunken squeals coming from the backyard, but he can only concentrate on trying to regulate his heartbeat – which seems to be out of control right now.

Sam feels her delicate fingers wriggle their way between his and he lets out his breath, taking a glance down at their hands.

They fit together perfectly.

* * *

><p>At the insistence of one very convincing Rachel Berry, the Glee kids meet for dinner at the Hudson-Hummel house on Friday night, one week after Mr. Schue's wedding. They're all crowded in the kitchen, watching her, Kurt, Finn, and Blaine argue and attempt to cook something edible for the night. It's pretty amusing, until Rachel raises her wine glass and lunges towards Blaine, who said something about vegan food being disgusting, and that's when Puck announces he's going to order pizza, instead.<p>

Sam thinks it's pretty great, having all his friends (old and new) gather around boxes of pizza and beer and wine and sodas, talking about everything under the sun. He hears about life in New York and is immediately jealous. He hears about Mercedes' adventures in LA and Mike's new dance school and it makes him ache – he needs to get out of Lima so badly and it's a realization that only hits him right now, in this moment. He has to pass the retakes, he just has to.

A few hours and several impromptu jam sessions later, they finally call it a night and split up. He doesn't know how it happens or why, but all of a sudden, it's just him and Quinn sitting on the front steps of the house. She's cold, he can tell, so he reaches back and grabs his letter jacket, settling it on her shoulders snugly. She looks up at him and smiles and he doesn't even try to resist his hand that comes up and brushes away the strands of blonde hair that fall into her hazel eyes.

"You're still on the synchronized swimming team?" she asks, fingering the letter jacket cautiously.

Sam chuckles and shakes his head. "I quit at the end of last year. The only reason I was on it was to get Mercedes back," he snorts, remembering how stupid he had felt when she still turned him away. A dull anger bubbles inside of him – he can still feel the slushies dripping down his face and he can still feel the ache in his heart when Mercedes walked away with Shane instead of him.

"So this is…?"

"Basketball. And football. I'm pretty talented, you know," he jokes, nudging her shoulder with his.

Quinn rolls her eyes and the silence between them is comfortable, familiar. It reminds Sam of the nights they used to spend outside his family's motel room, squeezed together on the porch swing, stealing minutes and kisses and moments. Sometimes he wishes he could go back. Not to when his family was struggling, but to simpler times. The nights spent on the front porch were what he lived for, even if he and Quinn hadn't been dating at the time; it was what he had needed. She knew that, knew that for once, she was the pillar of strength for the both of them.

But that was before life came in their way. That was before Kentucky and Beth and pink hair and White Chocolate. That was before Sectionals and Mercedes and car accidents. That was before Yale and SATs and visits and hushed phone calls.

"I wish we could go back," Quinn murmurs and Sam looks at her, shocked, because it's like she can read his mind. She's soft and fragile and vulnerable under the moonlight and sometimes he's not really sure why they never worked out in the first place. It's not like he never forgave her for cheating on him and it's not like long-distance couldn't work –God knows he's the most loyal human being on the planet.

He nods wordlessly and looks up at the night sky, wondering if it'd be worth it to cast a wish one of the twinkling stars. He wishes anyway, wishes to pass his retakes and see his family again, and that's when he suddenly feels a weight. Tearing his gaze away from the sky, he looks down to see Quinn resting her head on his shoulder. She's nudging him and trying to get comfortable and it takes her a few seconds, until she finally finds it – the crook of his neck where she presses her nose against his skin and breathes him in, the way she used to. She sighs contentedly and her hair tickles his chin, but he doesn't complain, because just like several nights ago, when they held hands in the bed of his truck – she fits perfectly.

And when he presses his lips against hers and they stumble inside the house and his lips discover her neck, her collarbone, and her stomach, and they end up a mess of tangled limbs and sheets, and she hooks her leg around his and curls against his chest …she still fits perfectly.

* * *

><p>She leaves Lima again.<p>

He doesn't care how many times or in what context it happens, but getting left behind is the worst feeling in the world. Sam wanders around aimlessly for the next few days and it's noticeable, because Blaine brings him comic books and Ryder brings him an Avatar DVD (like he doesn't already have one) and even Tina tries to slip him some Chinese herbal tea at lunch. But none of it helps, because nobody knows why he's acting the way he is. They think it's just nerves about his SAT results and Sam lets them think so, because he doesn't want to explain it to a bunch of people who'll judge him.

They won't get that Sam and Quinn are trying not to fall in love.

So instead, he stays quiet and walks through the halls like a zombie. And when he gets home, he locks himself in his room with his guitar and writes songs until he literally can't come up with any more melodies or lyrics. It's during this time of self-pity that Finn knocks on his door and tells him that he's got mail. For a split second, Sam doesn't even register the news – until he remembers what day it is and leaps to his feet. His sheets fall to the floor and he nearly trips over his own feet while trying to get the door open and when he reaches the kitchen, there's a single envelope propped up against the fruit basket with his name scrawled across it. His heart is pounding and he's distinctly aware that he might actually throw up, but he reaches over and slowly, slowly, opens the letter.

He passes the SAT retakes.

* * *

><p>"Congratulations are in order for a Mr. Sam Evans!"<p>

Finn pops open the sparkling apple juice and clumsily pours it into red plastic cups and for a split second, Sam remembers the day he walked back into the choir room just in time for Sectionals. He remembers how Mike was the first to hug him and then Quinn and then he's hit with another pang of hurt – he just misses his friends. He loves the kids in Glee club, he really does. It's the place where he belongs and he's grateful for that, but there's no Mike or Puck or Kurt. Even Finn is different now, older somehow. He even misses Santana's insults, but he won't admit that out loud. Still, he goes through the motions and plasters a smile on his face and hugs everybody – deep down, he knows he couldn't have done it without them.

Glee club rehearsals end and they all make their way towards the school parking lot. He waves goodbye to everybody, declines Blaine's offer to hit the gym for a "cele-bro-tory" workout (Blaine's words, not his), and just heads towards his truck. The drive home is slow and relaxing and for the first time in a really long time, Sam starts to feel like himself again. He's happy that he has a future to look forward to, he's happy that his friends really care about him, and despite the mess his love life is right now, he's pretty happy that his heart isn't in a lot of serious pain. He could have it a lot worse right now, he knows that, and he smiles a little, thinking of how good he has it

When he hops out of his truck, he sees her.

She's sitting there, pretty in a white dress, all sun-kissed, her blonde hair tumbling down in soft waves. There's a grin on her face – one of those sincere, genuine, incredibly honest smiles that Sam's only seen on her a handful of times. She's bouncing her long, athletic legs up and down in excitement and when he gets close enough, she jumps up and sprints, full-force, towards him.

"Congratulations!" she squeals and her arms wrap tightly around his neck, her feet already off the ground. There's a realization that dawns on him, that he's suddenly, literally, filled with Quinn Fabray and it's the best damn thing he's felt in a long time.

Screw passing the SAT retakes, this is what he really needs.

* * *

><p>She stays for the weekend.<p>

They sort of barricade themselves in her old house, keeping the rest of the world out, at least for three days. Nobody else knows she's back in Lima and she wants to keep it that way – he's not complaining, it means he gets her all to himself. Sam knows it's probably not healthy, but he'll always be selfish with Quinn. The way he sees it, he's allowed. And he's starting to realize that it doesn't matter how much time passes between them, the familiarity and comfort will always be there – unstrained, uncomplicated, and unexpected, every time. It's a realization he could really get used to.

It's a Sunday night and they're curled into each other on the couch, limbs tangled and hair mussed, sticky and sweaty, and skin to skin. The fire crackles, the heat strong enough to coat them with warmth. For a split second, Sam sends a silent prayer to the heavens, thanking God that he's lucky enough to wrap his arms around Quinn (and that the Fabrays left their Lima house in her name, before they left to Florida).

"I dreamed of nights like this," she murmurs softly, voice already heavy with drowsiness. Sam smiles and buries his nose in her hair, inhaling and memorizing every bit of her. He nods wordlessly, because he still thinks this whole night is a dream. "Sam?"

Quinn untangles herself from his grasp, rests her chin against his bare chest and looks up at him, her hazel eyes sparkling.

"Mmm?"

"What are we…I mean, Yale and….your graduation…" she stammers and Sam chuckles, because she sounds so unsure and adorable at the same time.

He takes a deep breath, trying to get the combination of words right on his tongue. He knows they're not supposed to last forever. He knows falling in love is a messy and complicated situation, with her in New Haven and his future still uncertain. All Sam knows is that he likes having her in his arms. It might not be all the time and it might not be forever, but it's what he needs – a safe place to land.

Sam pushes away her strands of blonde hair, bringing her up to face him, her body wriggling against his. She bites her lip nervously and he brushes his thumb over her features, committing every curve to memory. He sighs and rests his forehead against hers.

"I don't know what this is, but I have you, and that's good enough for me."


	7. That's How You Know: 3

**SUMMARY: The New Directions and the times they realized Sam and Quinn were perfect for each other.**

* * *

><p><em>7. Santana<em>

Santana doesn't _hate_ him.

Okay, yes, she insults him a lot and she's totally conscious of that fact, but she doesn't actually downright hate him. She doesn't really hate anybody in Glee club, actually, despite what comes out of her foul mouth sometimes. And besides, she really can't hate somebody both she and Brittany dated. Sure, it was a long time ago (at least, it feels that way), but Santana's seen what the world did to him – how they literally stripped away his youth and innocence – and nobody should have to grow up faster than they absolutely have to. As much as she doesn't want to say it loud, she trusts him.

That is, until she sees him ducking into an obscure coffee shop, trying to be discreet. In New York City. When he's supposed to be in Lima.

She trusts him and he trusts her, so she shouldn't be sneaking around, trying to spy on him. But her feet sort of move on their own and the next thing Santana knows, she's crouched behind a corner, trying to peek inside the glass windows. Because there is no way Sam Evans is in New York City for a college tour. And even if he is, there's no way he would be going to college or looking at apartments or doing anything in the Upper East Side. Sam Evans and high class don't go together. The very idea of Trouty Mouth trying to fit in with the champagne and caviar types makes Santana stifle a laugh, but it gets lodged in her throat, because she sees Sam sit down across a blonde girl.

For the first time, Santana feels her stomach churning. It doesn't cross her mind – not even once – that Sam could be meeting a girlfriend. He's always been loyal and okay, she doesn't actually know if he's dating anybody, but Santana feels sort of protective. And seeing him actually date is making her seriously nauseous. Besides, even if he is dating again, why is he doing it in New York? Why isn't he head over heels in love with some random girl back at McKinley?

Unless…

The idea makes Santana actually throws up a little in her mouth, before forcing it back down her throat. Because there is no way that Sam Evans is another Brody. She starts to feel herself get agitated and she turns the corner angrily, her heel grinding into the concrete. She's ready to fling open this ridiculously over-priced coffee shop's door (who does these meetings in a pretentious coffeehouse, anyway?) and storm in there, grab Sam by the ears, and drag him out to the sidewalk, where maybe she can kick some sense into him.

The sight of the blonde girl's face makes her stop in her tracks.

It's like the whole world goes into slow motion. The girl turns her head slightly, her eyes downcast, a soft giggle rising on her lips – Santana knows that gesture immediately. It's familiar and reminds her of the times she used to spy on Finn and his ex-girlfriend, or whenever she'd stalk Puckerman to figure out where he was sneaking off to after football practices.

It's Quinn Fabray. More importantly, it's Quinn Fabray when she's in love.

Santana leaves it at that – there's really nothing else for her to say or do. Sam used to tell her that she and Brittany were made for each other, that it didn't matter what life threw at them or how long they were apart, because the universe and cosmic fate worked that way. She never believed him, but looking at the two blondes sitting across from each other, Santana knows it's true for him, too. It's in the way his fingers intertwine with hers, the way she smiles and laughs out loud when he's doing an impression, and it's in the way her foot rubs against his underneath the coffee table. It makes her giddy and sort of feels like she's intruding on a private moment, so she steps away, her heels clicking softly against the concrete as she makes her way back to the subway. She forgets about the fact that neither of them told her they were in town, because if there's one person Sam Evans deserves, if there's one girl that he let get away – it's Quinn Fabray.

And she can't really hate either of them for finding each other.

* * *

><p><em>8. Artie<em>

Artie's always the last to know everything.

He doesn't plan it that way and it's certainly not his choice, but that's how it happens. If he really wants to be bitter, he could say it's because he's in a wheelchair and he'd probably swing a couple sympathy votes, but that's not what he wants. He's thinking about this while he's rolling down the hallway, dodging backpacks left and right. It's random, he knows that. But still, Artie can't help what decides to pop up in his head.

He knows these hallways like the back of his hand. Being in a wheelchair, he knows all the shortcuts and the hidden ways and he's pretty damn proud of the fact. When Artie turns a corner, it's purposeful and calculated. He doesn't go fast, but he's run over a couple of toes before – not that he really cares much, it's sort of revenge for all the backpacks and hands that hit him in the face. The point is, the hallways are his domain.

That is, until he catches two people red-handed.

When Artie turns a corner and heads outside to use the ramp that goes around the school, he literally rolls right into two people who are so fused together that it's hard to figure out where one starts and the other ends. They squeal and jump apart – the boy curses in a Southern drawl – and Artie bursts out laughing when he recognizes who they are.

"Dude, shut up," Sam warns him, his eyes narrow. Quinn curls against his chest, hiding her face from Artie, and from the way her shoulders are shaking, he knows that she's trying really hard not to laugh.

"You guys know Glee club starts in a few minutes right?" Artie chuckles, before his eyebrows furrow in thought. Suddenly, it all starts to make sense – why Quinn and Sam are always just a couple of minutes late to Glee, always flustered and out of breath. Why Quinn hangs outside the weight room, pacing back and forth with a smile on her face. Why Sam literally sprints to his old truck after the final bell rings.

"We're just…we were on our way," Quinn mumbles against Sam's shirt, her face partially hidden from Artie's knowing gaze.

"You guys are a thing now, huh?" he asks, wheeling back and forth.

"Dude," Sam groans and Artie snorts in response. There's a silent pause between all three of them, until Sam throws his head back in frustration and snaps it forward again to lock eyes with Artie. "Okay, yes, we're a thing. But you're the only one who knows. And you're not telling _anybody_," he warns, his voice leveled.

Artie nods, because it makes sense and he knows what it's like to keep a secret and because…well, because Sam is really intimidating when he wants to be. So instead, Artie just grins and rattles off promises that he won't tell anybody. Sam fist-bumps him and Quinn pecks him on the cheek and Artie shoos them towards the choir room. He watches them walk away, two blondes wrapped up in each other. Sam has his arm around Quinn's shoulders, holding her close to him and she doesn't walk straight – it's like she's walking into him, like she's turning her whole body to face him, instead. It makes Artie smile. There's something in them – something unexpected but still so perfectly right – that just makes him happy. Maybe it's because they deserve each other, in the best way possible, but seeing Sam and Quinn makes everything lighter and happier and brighter.

(It could also be because finally, Artie's not the last to know about _this_, too).

* * *

><p><em>9. Finn<em>

When Finn finds out Sam and Quinn are 'official,' he immediately hates the blonde kid. Like, really hates him. It wasn't enough that Finn had to pray to a sandwich just to get Sam knocked off the football team, but now he has to watch Quinn walk down the halls, flaunting that stupid ring and giggling every time Sam opens his huge mouth to do another impression. It's mean, actually. And okay, it's kind of his fault for asking Sam to join Glee club and tricking him into pairing up with Quinn for the duets competition – but the guy didn't have to run the whole nine yards with it.

He knows he's got Rachel, who's totally awesome in every way possible, but it doesn't really change the fact that his heart still has a soft spot for Quinn Fabray and probably always will. So when Mr. Schue announces that Sam and Quinn are going to lead the duet during Sectionals, Finn sort of just curls his fingers around the edge of his seat and clenches his mouth shut. He knows it's not his place to say anything, because it's not like Finn wants to be with Quinn anyway. He just wishes she'd see that Sam was like every other guy at McKinley. But he can't do anything, because judging by the round of applause – everybody seems to love them together (he can't understand it at all).

Rachel tries to cheer him up with banana bread and it's kind of nice, because she should be ready to rip his throat out after she found out about him and Santana – but maybe the way she thinks about him is the way he thinks about Quinn. No matter what, you can't really let your first go. Finn can't spend too much time thinking about it, though, but he overhears Tina gushing to Mercedes about how Sam is _so good _for Quinn, "especially after all she's been through." Finn's heart hurts a little at that, because he's one of the things she went through so…

A week after 'Barbie and Ken' become official, Sam is back to training with the football team and it nearly makes Finn blind with rage. He hates how easy it is for Sam to get back to his former glory – how he easily runs suicides, executes plays perfectly, and even makes Puck laugh with some lame joke. It's like Finn's losing grip on his own glory days and Sam is just there, picking all the pieces up for himself. Whatever.

He makes his way towards his locker, quickly going over what he needs for his homework that night, when a soft, familiar sound makes him stop short. He doesn't know how or why, but Finn makes his way towards it, in the auditorium, sneaking in the back to make sure the darkness hides him. Nobody's really supposed to be around at this time of the day – most of the after school activities are over and football practice is always the last to leave. But when Finn cranes his neck around the corner so he can catch a glimpse of what's happening, he has to suck in his breath.

Sam and Quinn.

They're on opposite sides of the stage, but the way they gaze at each other makes them seem closer than they actually are. The music swells – Finn recognizes the iconic song – and they take hesitant, tentative steps towards each other. Quinn averts her eyes shyly and Sam gently grasps her hand, bringing her close to him. They're singing in perfect harmony and their movements are free, loose, not at all calculated. It's like they know where one starts and the other ends and Finn is actually mesmerized. Something about the way they interact with each other pulls him in and when they finish the simple choreography (even though Sam still manages to trip over his feet), Quinn turns to face Sam with a big smile – breathless, eager, and happy. It lights up the stage and it lights up Sam's face and Finn doesn't want to admit it, but he has to.

They're sort of perfect together.


	8. Family Ties: 1

**SUMMARY: Because everyday life for a married couple is never without some excitement, drama, and a life lesson or two.**

* * *

><p><em>Charlotte Bethany Evans.<em>

Sam remembers it like it was yesterday. A storm was rolling in and just before the first flash of lightning struck the dark night sky, he heard the most beautiful sound he had ever heard in his entire life – his baby daughter's first cry. It was piercing and shocking, how such a loud noise could come out of such a tiny little person, but Sam remembers that sound, clear as day. It's just one of those things that's hard to forget, like the screams that came from Quinn's throat while she was in labor or the soft cries they both shared as they cradled their baby together for the first time.

From the very beginning of her life, Charlotte Bethany Evans was the most spoiled little baby girl – there was no doubt about it. For a long time, she was the only baby around Sam and Quinn's close circle of friends and because of that, she was cherished. He remembers Rachel singing an original song at every birthday, he remembers Brittany and Santana taking her out for spa days (yeah, he didn't even know those existed for babies), and he even remembers Artie giving her a spin on his chair as she sat, cradled in his lap. Sam remembers all that, practically every single memory, because that's what a father does – he remembers. And when his memory fails him, it's like Charlotte has ten other parents weighing in, too. They've all developed soft, protective spots in their hearts for each other's kids over the years.

Which means giving Charlotte what she wants for her thirteenth birthday is going to be especially difficult.

"She wants to what?!" Puck cries, the weights on his bench press clanging together loudly.

"That's crazy!" Finn adds, his shocked expression doing nothing to calm Sam's nerves.

"Dude, I _know_," Sam sighs, because he's been dealing with this for the past week. Ever since his little girl walked into his bedroom and he made the stupid decision to ask her what she wanted for her upcoming birthday. He had expected her to say a collection of songbooks or sheet music or even a new guitar, but no. Charlotte Evans had walked into his bedroom one night and when her father asked her what she wanted for her thirteenth birthday, she had blatantly said,

"Daddy, I want to go on a date with Eric Scott."

It's ridiculous. Sam told her so and of course, that led into a big fight and they haven't spoken in several days. And okay, Sam misses his little girl and he knows this is just a part of growing up, but God, dating? At thirteen? Is that even normal?

"How old were you when you went on your first date?" he asks, curious to know. Sam sees his friend's eyes dart back and forth between each other and that just sucks, because he knows they're going to lie so he can feel better.

"I was eleven," Puck shrugs. Okay. Sam actually believes that because…well, it's Noah Puckerman, for God's sakes.

"I was thirteen," Finn winces. "Sorry, bro,"

"I was actually seventeen. Tina was my first date," Mike grins and the boys all groan because leave it to Mike Chang to be super-romantic.

"See, why can't Charlotte date guys like you?" Sam mutters and they all chuckle because it's a known fact Charlotte had the biggest crush on her Uncle Mike when she was younger. But she's not young anymore and Sam can't help but feel like he's going to lose his little girl if he lets her go on this date – and that's something he's never going to risk.

Charlotte isn't an easy kid to deal with. She's feisty, headstrong, independent, and incredibly stubborn – basically all of Quinn's most infuriating (and completely adorable) qualities. She's been a little troublemaker ever since she found an abandoned skateboard and decided to ride it down the stairs when she was four years old. Still, they've always managed to rein her in – putting her in piano and guitar lessons, signing her up for the tennis team, and letting her sing in the church choir. But once Sam lets Charlotte go out on a date, she's going to want to go out on another one and they're just going to escalate until she finally has a boyfriend and he just can't handle the thought of some idiotic boy attempting to make his daughter feel special.

No. Just…no.

* * *

><p>"You said yes?!"<p>

"Of course I said yes. I started dating when I was thirteen, so it seems fair," Quinn dumps the pasta into a pot of boiling water and stirs it, completely oblivious to the fact that her husband is legitimately having a nervous breakdown.

"But you also had a baby in high school," Sam points out. The way Quinn swivels around and just narrows her pretty hazel eyes at him makes him wince, because scary Quinn is…well, scary. "All I'm saying is that we have to think of the consequences!"

"And you think letting Charlotte go on her first date is going to immediately lead to a teenage pregnancy?" Quinn does that thing where she raises one of her eyebrows and it's cute, in this quirky kind of way, but Sam's too riled up to appreciate it right now.

"I'm saying if we let her go on this one date, she's going to think it's okay to go on other dates!"

"Oh, the horror," Quinn rolls her eyes sarcastically and goes back to stirring the sauce for the spaghetti. He means well, she knows that, and it's ridiculously attractive how great of a father he is, but sometimes he needs to lighten up. Quinn trusts Charlotte and that's all there is to it.

"You're telling me you're completely fine with Charlotte going out on a date with some boy we don't know? For all you know, he could be serial killer. What if he makes fun of her because she does church choir? What if he's not funny? What if he doesn't know what Avatar is?" Sam starts to panic, the reality of the situation finally hitting him. Deep down, he knows he's not being rational and it's unnerving, because Sam has always been the rational one. Sure, his head is sometimes up in the clouds, but for the most part, he's responsible and reliable. He just doesn't understand why his kid needs to go out on a date – at all.

"Honey, I think you're the only one who will care if he's never seen Avatar," Quinn chuckles, setting the stove on low heat and crossing the kitchen to wrap her arms around her husband's waist. Thank god he's still obsessed with working out, because she swears, his abs are her favorite physical feature about him. Even through his t-shirt, Quinn can feel the rigid outline of a six-pack and yes; it makes her giddy and excited that he's all hers, because…well, Sam is hot. And he doesn't even realize it, which makes it so much better.

"It's an important quality," he grumbles.

"You didn't care that I had never seen it,"

"We were seventeen! Which is further proof that Charlotte doesn't have to date now. She doesn't need to,"

"At what point does someone need to date, Sam? You and I didn't need to date, but look where we are now," she whispers softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his neck.

"So you're saying she's going to end up marrying Eric Scott and have three kids with him?" Sam turns in her arms and laces his fingers around her waist, pulling her closer. Sometimes it amazes him that after all these years together, he still can't get enough of her. Quinn's the best thing that's ever happened to him and he used to live in fear that one day she'd wake up and realize he wasn't what she wanted. It hasn't happened yet, so he's thankful for that.

"No, I'm saying if you don't let her date – just one date – she might end up resenting you. And as much as you want to keep a hold on your little girl, you're going to have to realize that she's growing up. If we shelter her from everything, it's going to be ten times worse when she decides to let loose on her own," Quinn reasons, grabbing his biceps in an effort to strengthen her point.

There's silence between the two, before Sam throws his head back in a loud, frustrated groan. "Fine, she can go," he mumbles bitterly. He doesn't really have any more arguments against this dating thing and in the end, he knows the girls are going to win, so it's better if he just goes along, anyway. "But I won't be happy about it,"

"I wouldn't expect you to be," Quinn grins, kissing him lightly on the lips, before starting to turn back towards the stove. Sam tugs on her skirt, though, pulling her back to him and she squeals, wriggling in his grip. "Sam!"

"You're kind of hot when you go all parental," he raises his eyebrows suggestively and Quinn bursts out laughing, because seriously, Sam has not changed one bit since high school.

"You're crazy," she giggles. "And quit it, I need to get dinner ready and I'm starving," she bats at his arms playfully, but the truth is, being this close to Sam Evans, no matter how many times, always makes her head spin. He's like the best kind of drug you could get addicted to.

"Mmm, so am I," he whispers, his lips ghosting softly over Quinn's lips. Sam pulls her body flush against his and it's these kisses – these intense, passionate, and melting kisses – that always send both their minds reeling. She goes limp in his arms, relishing the way she can feel his muscles tense and he's just so big and she's so little, but their limbs all fit together perfectly.

When they finally pull apart, Sam sort of shoots her this lopsided grin and she smirks up at him, before going back to cooking. It takes him a while to tear his eyes off her, because yes, Quinn Fabray has always been beautiful and it still baffles him how out of all the people in the world, she chose him.

* * *

><p>It's after dinner when he decides to do it.<p>

Quinn is on the phone with Tina and all the plates are cleared up, so when Charlotte goes up to her room, Sam takes the opportunity. He waits outside for several minutes, his eyes fixated on her bedroom door, before finally gathering enough courage to knock. Yeah, he thinks he shouldn't have to knock, since it's his house, after all, but Quinn insists on it – something about how it gives Charlotte privacy. Whatever.

"Yes?" her voice is soft, like it always is. It's gentle and melodic and despite Rachel Berry's attempts to turn her into a vocal powerhouse, Charlotte's always been suited to sing those folksy, acoustic, soft, country songs. As a Tennessee native, it makes him super proud that she chooses Sarah Buxton and Martina McBride over Broadway. But that's just him.

"Hey, can I come in?" he pokes his head in and finds her sitting at her desk, her knees curled up to her chest. When she nods, Sam opens the door the rest of the way and crosses the room, settling himself on the edge of the bed. "I'd like to talk about your birthday. Or…well, what you want for your birthday," he adds.

"Really?" Charlotte's face lights up. It actually lights up and he knows this is going to be difficult. Sam was all prepared to lay down the law with her, to tell her she could date, but with very, very strict conditions. But now that he sees how excited just the possibility of dating makes her…it just makes things complicated. Charlotte sort of bounces over, sitting next to him, where he takes a good look at her.

Sam likes to think he's not being biased, but seriously, his daughter is the most beautiful person in the world. She's emerald green eyes and long blonde hair tied up in a ridiculously high ponytail, she's a mix between Sam and Quinn's lips (thank god), and she's just so damn gifted. One of the star players on the girl's tennis team, a talented piano and guitar player, and she's like, the darling of the church choir. Sam can't help that he's freaking proud – he helped make her, for God's sakes. So the idea of his little girl going out with some guy…it's every father's worst nightmare, isn't it?

"You can date," he says firmly. Charlotte throws her arms around his neck and he stumbles back a bit, but just hugs her back, because even though saying those words hurt, it's kind of worth it if she's happy.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Wait, I have rules," his eyebrows furrow and Charlotte sits back down, her hands resting in her lap. She nods, the expression on her face telling him that she's taking this as seriously as he is. "Me and mom have to meet this guy. And we have to approve. If there's something we don't like about him, he's out of here,"

"Dad," she rolls her eyes in that typical, expected, teenager sort of way. Sam just snorts in laughter, because come on, he's seen it all. "You're going to have a biased opinion, you're going to hate him right off the bat,"

"Hold up, I'm not done. Yes, we have to meet this guy and approve of him, but we also promise that we'll be fair. If he's genuinely a nice dude, then it's fine. I know you think I'll judge him in some way, but that's why your mom has to be there," he explains. "Don't tell her, but she kind of keeps me sane," Sam chuckles, nudging his shoulder with Charlotte's. "Does that seem okay?"

"Yes,"

"And, you let us know where you're going. Curfew applies – 10 o'clock and not a second later. I reserve the right to call you or drop in on your date at any time of the night, too," he adds the last part in a rush. Charlotte's eyes widen, before relaxing again, and Sam can see the wheels carefully turning in her head – as if she's mulling over some business deal. It's scary how alike Charlotte and Quinn are, he realizes.

"Okay," she shrugs.

"Okay? That's it?" he's a little bewildered, because she made such a big deal about it a few nights ago.

"Yeah," she nods. "That's what I was expecting anyway, so…thanks, Daddy. It means a lot that you can trust me," Charlotte smiles and it just melts Sam's heart so he pulls her in for a hug and drops a kiss on her forehead.

* * *

><p>Sam walks into the bedroom he shares with Quinn to find her sitting up, her pretty hazel eyes fixated on the book she's reading. It's finally quiet in the usually loud house and he savors these moments – moments when he and Quinn get some alone time to sit and really talk. They do a good job of co-parenting their kids, for the most part; they're always on the same wavelength. And their separate jobs keep them busy, but it's not like they ever neglect each other. Still, it's always nice to sink down into a comfortable bed, put an arm around his gorgeous wife, and just pick apart each other's brains before going to sleep. Sometimes, if he's not super tired or super horny (because hey, it happens), it's his favorite part of the day.<p>

"All the kids asleep?" he asks, referring to their 10 year old son, Ryan, and their 6-year-old daughter, Lucy. Thank god he doesn't have to think about those two going on dates yet – especially Lucy.

"They're in bed, but I can hear Ryan tapping on his side table with those sticks. We should've never agreed to let Finn teach him how to play the drums, he's obsessed," Quinn rests her head back against the headboard, closing her book. She bites her lip, watching as Sam strips to his boxers, before wrapping her arms around his torso when he climbs into bed.

"So how was your day?" he asks, dropping a kiss on her head.

"Oh, it was super exciting. Lucy managed to get gum stuck in her hair and screamed bloody murder. And Ryan accidentally flung a drumstick into my face," she pouts, looking up at him and pointing out the small welt that's beginning to form underneath her eyes. Sam chuckles and she whacks him on the chest.

He just kisses her cheek and breathes her in. After a long day at work, he's just grateful he's got a family and a home to come back to – even if his kids are sort of nuts and his wife is stubborn as hell.

"I told Charlotte she could date," Sam mumbles against her neck. "I'm officially a sucky father,"

Quinn straightens up, nearly elbowing him in the chin, and claps her hands together gleefully. When she asks him what made him change his mind, she gets an ungrateful grunt as a response, but she takes it. After a couple of minutes of silence, Quinn feels the dead weight of Sam's sleeping body on top of hers and she chuckles – with his muscled arm flung ungracefully across her stomach and the top of his blond hair tickling her jawline, she'll admit it to the whole world: this is her favorite part of the day.

* * *

><p>'<em>This isn't happening. This isn't happening.'<em>

She's sitting cross-legged on the floor, the new guitar she got for her birthday in her lap. She's stringing chords together with the expertise of someone who's been trained for years and her voice is clear – singing in time to the slow, Lady Antebellum ballad that plays from the iPod on the dock. Behind her, Quinn is holding a curling iron, steadily wrapped around blonde strands and scattered all around them on the floor is makeup – eye shadow palettes, lip glosses, compacts, and other contraptions and knick-knacks that Sam can't even wrap his head around.

Charlotte is getting ready for her first date.

They had celebrated her birthday the night before, with a fancy dinner and a pretty cake and presents. But now, on a Saturday night, Sam is actually letting his teenager go on a date with a boy he's never met before. And as Quinn fastens a pearl necklace around Charlotte's neck, Sam is pretty sure the only reason he agreed to all this is because he underwent some secret lobotomy while sleeping. Because there is no way in his sane mind that he would let Charlotte – his precious, teenaged, beautiful firstborn – go on a date with some loser named Eric.

"How do I look, Daddy?" her melodic voice, so similar to her mother's, pulls him out of his thoughts and he shakes his head, focusing on the young woman in front of him.

Sometimes he can't believe that she's his. Like, he'll be waiting in the car to pick her up from school and she'll come running out, all breathless and wide-eyed, and Sam actually has to stop and compose himself – it's like he can't believe he and Quinn actually created this person. This person, who walks and talks and is the perfect combination of both of them, bad parts and all. Sam's amazed of his daughter, every day, and it might be the sappiest thing ever, but it's also true. And when Charlotte spins around, her sundress (that she insisted he buy for her for this specific occasion) splays out around her and her curls bounce and her eyes sparkle and Sam's heart just _breaks_. A part of him can feel her slipping through his fingers, but the other part of him knows it's time.

"You look beautiful," Sam says, trying hard not to let his voice break. Charlotte grins and wraps her arms around his waist in a fierce huge, before sprinting out of her bedroom and down the stairs.

"Good boy," Quinn teases, walking towards her husband. She affectionately pats him on the head and he ducks out of her way, groaning.

"Why did I agree to this?" he whines, grasping Quinn's hand and guiding them down the stairs. She giggles into his shoulder and mumbles something incoherent, but he hears the word 'love' and just…well, leave it to his wife to say the one thing to make it all better.

Charlotte is sitting on the living room floor, playing with her little sister and Sam's just about to say something when the doorbell rings. She jumps to her feet faster than lightning, but Quinn shoots her a warning look while Sam goes to answer the door. When he pulls it open, he's a little confused. Eric Scott isn't tall or muscular and he doesn't look like a jock – in fact, he looks sort of terrified. He's all gangly limbs and awkward stance, his blue eyes wide with fear and Sam has to hold back a chuckle.

This was the guy he was afraid of?

* * *

><p>"Stop it," Quinn's voice doesn't pull him out of his stupor and he keeps flipping through the magazine absentmindedly. "Sam Evans, stop it," she repeats and crosses the room to sit next to him, tugging the magazine out of his hands.<p>

"It's 10. It's 10 o'clock and she's not home yet,"

"It's nine fifty-five. She's got five more minutes, so hold on before you send out a search party, okay?" she chuckles and grabs Sam's arm to sling over her own shoulder. He presses a ghost of a kiss to her bare shoulder and it leaves her wanting more, but she knows him too well – he won't rest until all three of their kids are safe and tucked in bed. Sometimes his insistence and overprotectiveness gets on her nerves (and definitely the kids'), but it's also one of the reasons she loves him.

They stay like that for a while and it's nice. Quinn knows Sam's not all _there_, but she'll take what she can get. Their lives are busy, with three kids running around and stable jobs for both of them, but she kind of lives for these fleeting, stolen moments. Tina makes fun of her sometimes, says that she's obsessed with her husband and Quinn stifles a giggle at the thought – because it's probably true.

"Alright, it's 10. I don't care that Eric Scott is on the damn honor roll – I'm getting my shotgun," Sam untangles himself from Quinn and stands up purposefully.

"It's _not_ 10 and you're being…"

The low hum of a car engine catches their attention and Sam makes a move towards the front door. With cat-like reflexes, Quinn reaches out and grabs his sleeve, dragging him back. He makes a sound, somewhere between a whine and a grunt, but stays put – for now, at least.

When Charlotte finally walks into the living room, Sam lets out a huge breath of relief. He doesn't know what he was expecting (probably the worst), but she seems to be in one piece – no wrinkled dress and not a hair out of place. She swings the purse in her hand back and forth with a soft smile on her lips and all of a sudden, before Sam can even register what's going on, Charlotte flings her arms around his neck in a fierce hug.

"What did he do?" he asks immediately, because the only reason his teenage daughter would find comfort in his arms (at least, nowadays, anyway) would be because an idiot named Eric Scott hurt her in some way.

Charlotte pulls away and rolls her eyes and Sam's struck again with the image of a young Quinn Fabray.

"He didn't _do _anything," she reasons. "I just wanted to hug you. And say thank you," Charlotte smiles graciously, the corners of lips curling upwards. There's a soft, untouched innocence about her – mixed with a mature, wise-beyond-her-years sort of air. It terrifies Sam, because he's pretty sure that's what Quinn was like back in the day.

Instead, Sam offers her a half-hearted grin.

"I'm being serious," Charlotte insists, taking Sam's hand and guiding him towards the couch. He sits and she sits next to him. Looking at him directly in the eyes, she starts to speak with a calm, rational, voice. "I know you didn't want me to start dating. But the fact that you told me I could, that you trusted me enough to take the first, very small, step towards adulthood…I really appreciate that. I know it was hard for you, but you did it anyway, because you want what's best for me – and deep down, you know that letting me grow up in my own way is what's best for me. I'll always be your girl,"

Sam stares at her, unblinking.

"I love you, Daddy,"

Charlotte kisses him on the cheek and walks quietly out of the room. Quinn follows closely behind, trailing her daughter and asking question after question about how the date went. Sam leaves her to it, because she'll tell him everything later and because…well, he's still stunned. He knows he's got good kids – hell, they're half Quinn Fabray and that's enough to make them _great _kids. But he's never actually heard any of them put together a string of words that was coherent and articulate and so damn eloquent.

He's struck with the sudden realization that his little girl is growing up – and more importantly, she's growing up smart. It fills him with enormous pride and Sam pretty much can't handle it. Tears spring to his eyes when he recognizes how far his little girl's come.

And just like how he'll never forget Charlotte's first cries, during that momentous day in the hospital as a treacherous storm was rolling in, Sam knows he'll never forget her speech tonight – just another landmark in his baby girl's life that he knows he'll always remember.


	9. That's How You Know: 4

**SUMMARY: The New Directions and the times they realized Sam and Quinn were perfect for each other.**

* * *

><p><em>10. Puck<em>

When Finn first tells him about the new kid with the big mouth who's putting the moves on Quinn, Puck doesn't think much of it. He's gotten over Quinn and aside from the fact that they have a baby together – they don't have much else in common. It sort of amuses him though, because Finn thinks he should be downright pissed, but Puck's just sort of over it. He's going to try and get past whatever lingering feelings that might or might not be there and just move on. Quinn's got her own life and he doesn't really know the new kid anyway.

But for some reason, nobody else lets it go. And he gets it, the whole Glee club had been there for him and Quinn during the baby debacle, so it's a given that they're all super protective. The Glee club's always been this dysfunctional family, sort of clique-y and exclusive, despite the fact that they welcome any and all misfits. But the very fact that they're collectively trying to stop Quinn and Sam from getting together…it's sort of ridiculous.

So when Artie wheels up to him and asks for his opinion on the Quinn-Sam development, Puck just shrugs and grunts something incoherent. Two hours later, Rachel Berry asks him if he's alright and Puck rolls his eyes – he just got sprung from _juvie_, for God's sakes. If he can handle someone stealing his waffles, he can handle some new kid moving in on his baby mama. So what if they did a duet and it sounded charming and magical? So what if they hang out every damn second of the day? Puck's got his own life to worry about – and it has nothing to do with Sam or Quinn.

That is, until Sam decides to talk to him personally.

Puck is busy stuffing his gym bag into his locker, when he feels a pair of eyes on him. When he turns, Sam Evans is just standing there, his arms crossed – it's supposed to come off threatening, Puck thinks, but it's a little too hesitant to be intimidating. There's something in the way Sam carries himself that shows off a little humility and it's kind of admirable that he doesn't try to be bigger than everybody. Puck immediately decides he likes that about the kid.

"Hey, man. I just…I just wanted to see if it's alright with you. That I'm dating Quinn," Sam's fidgety as hell and his weight shuffles from foot to foot. Puck smirks, because it's so obvious the kid is about to combust, so he does him a favor. He shrugs, slams his locker shut, and hoists his backpack up on his shoulders.

"It's fine. Just take care of her," he adds the last part for good measure – it never hurts to be a little threatening, anyway. Sam slaps him on the shoulder in a playful, somewhat cautious, bro-moment, and Puck has to give him points for that. The kid's got guts.

"I will. Thanks, Puck," Sam grins and it literally takes up half his face and he's just so damn _happy_ that it actually makes Puck laugh. "I just wanted to talk to you first, before…well, before I ask her…"

"Dude, are you going to ask her to _marry you_? Because that's not cool," Puck interrupts, holding up his hand to stop Sam, as they walk out of the locker room together. Sam stops in his tracks, his eyes wide and Puck sort of chuckles to himself, because he looks like a guppy fish and he's beginning to think that Rachel and Artie and Finn and everybody else in Glee club is absolutely crazy for thinking that Sam is intimidating. Or as Rachel says it: "horning in on _our _territory." (For someone who preaches about acceptance, Rachel's sort of not accepting).

"I'm just going to ask her to be my girlfriend," Sam shrugs.

Puck snorts, because he's pretty sure this kid is out of his mind. McKinley doesn't really operate on the whole "ask-someone-to-go-steady" concept. It's pretty much hook up, spend a few awkward dates together, and the next thing you know, Santana's got you buying Valentine's Day gifts from Tiffany's. But when Sam doesn't respond, Puck looks at him and he realizes that this blonde kid is actually serious.

He groans and runs a hand over his Mohawk, trying to figure out a way to let him down easy. "That's going to scare her off. Quinn's just going to freak and run away. Besides, you two are already dating – why do you need a label?"

Sam's eyes widen and a small smile curls the corner of his lips upward, before he says,

"Because I really like her and I want to be with her."

It's in that moment that Puck immediately realizes why everybody in Glee club is so hesitant to accept Sam Evans. It isn't because he's taking Quinn away from them or because he's dangerous, because…really? No, the reason why everybody in Glee club is so hesitant to accept Sam is because Sam Evans is actually special and different and unique. God forbid the guy actually wants to take the traditional route and "propose" to Quinn. It's sort of refreshing to Puck, this wide-eyed innocence thing that Sam's got going for him. He's naïve, but not dumb. He's pure, but not prudish.

And Puck's pretty sure that's exactly what Quinn Fabray needs.

* * *

><p><em>11. Marley<em>

He's like the big brother she never had. He's sweet and overprotective, but more importantly, Sam understands. He's older, obviously, but he's also gone through the Glee club gauntlet – from being the new kid to finally being accepted. It's a hard journey and Marley's messed it up more than once, but she sort of feels steady with Sam around. He's reliable and ever since she's gotten stuck in the middle of the whole Jake-Ryder mess, she's really glad she can depend on him.

Sometimes, Marley feels like Sam's her only friend.

"So, what are you doing for Christmas?" she asks him, leaning against the lockers. It's only a few days until winter break and Marley's been struggling, trying to think of the perfect gift to give him. A scarf that she knitted herself doesn't really seem enough and it definitely doesn't help that Brittany's already given everybody awesome presents – since the world is ending and everything.

"I don't know. Wish I could spend it with my family, though," Sam shrugs and Marley doesn't miss the bitter tone in his voice. As hard as her and her mom have it sometimes – like when the heat goes out or they can't use the phone – she knows Sam has it a million times harder. His family is in a whole other state and she knows he misses them like mad.

"You can't make it back to Kentucky?" she asks sadly, her gaze lingering on the distressed picture of his family that he has tacked up in his locker. It's being held up by a sad, failing magnet, which makes Marley's heart break.

"They're headed to Nashville to spend time with my grandparents and mom doesn't want me to make the long drive," Sam shrugs again, closing his locker with a soft thud. "Looks like I'll be holding down the Hudson-Hummel fort, though. They're all going to see Kurt in New York, so I'll be house-sitting," he chuckles.

Marley lets a small laugh escape her mouth, if only to accommodate him. There's sadness in his eyes and she wishes she could fix it, like he's done for her so many times. But before she can even try to say anything, Sam just gives her a one-armed hug, drops a kiss on her head, and then walks out of school. She watches him stop to talk to Blaine and Tina and she's hit with that sudden, familiar ache in her heart – the one that tells her she should do something, anything, to help him. But Marley's pretty helpless when it comes to this sort of thing. It's not like she can afford to buy a plane ticket to Nashville for him.

So instead, she spends the next week baking him banana bread and sugar cookies and knitting him scarves and sweaters, all in an effort to make him feel better. Jake tells her she's being overbearing, but Marley doesn't care – Sam deserves someone to love him, because she's pretty sure nobody really, truly _appreciates_ him.

"Don't you think we should like…do something? Throw him a party or pool all our money together and buy him a ticket to Nashville? _Something_," Marley asks Tina desperately, while they're busy putting the finishing touches on the Glee club's Christmas tree.

Tina quirks an eyebrow at her. "He'll be fine. He knows we all care about him. And it's not like we didn't invite him to our houses for Christmas," she shrugs and places a bright red ornament onto the tree, before stepping back and smiling at her work. "He'll be fine. You worry too much,"

"I'm only worrying because none of you seem to even _care_," Marley groans in frustration, shoving the box of tinsel she's holding into Jake's arms. Her gaze falls on Sam, who's nursing a cup of eggnog in the corner and her heart breaks a little. It isn't right that he's spending Christmas all alone and for a split second, she entertains the idea of inviting him back to Arizona with her and her mom – but she knows it's useless, Sam would probably decline out of politeness.

Just as she starts to think that maybe an impromptu performance of Jingle Bell Rock might cheer him up, she's cut off by a sudden burst of commotion.

Santana Lopez leans against the doorway in an impossibly short skirt, her fingers lazily flicking the air, guiding people in one by one. Mike Chang, Mercedes Jones, Kurt Hummel, Rachel Berry…they all stream into the choir room and the energy automatically changes. The buzz is infectious and when Rachel stops to give Marley a hug, she finds herself so swept up in all of it that she forgets about worrying for a minute. It's always nice to have the old members back and Marley loves how…_complete_ the choir room feels.

"You don't have crazy-eyes anymore," Jake whispers in her ear, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. His head comes to rest on her shoulder and she leans into him instinctively.

"Everything feels right," Marley says, letting a sigh escape from her lips. But then, her gaze falls on Sam and she bristles at the sight.

"Except for that – that isn't right," she points out, gesturing towards the blonde boy. He's sitting in the corner of the room and the look on his face is miserable. She hears Jake sigh loudly behind her and the fact that her own boyfriend is getting tired of her worrying isn't lost on her. But Marley really just wants Sam to be happy and since nobody else seems to be willing to help, it falls down on her.

Until Quinn Fabray walks in.

Marley's never seen someone's face change so fast. All of a sudden, Sam's up to his feet with a smile that could light up all of Lima, Ohio and he's shooting across the choir room faster than lightning. She hears a squeal come out of Quinn's mouth, and he wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her off the ground, his nose buried in her hair…there's something magical and private about the whole moment, but Marley – and the rest of the people in the choir room – can't look away. It's like they're looking at something that only happens once in a lifetime, like they're intruding on some moment that's only supposed to be shared between two people.

"I told you he'd be fine," Tina whispers softly, sidling up next to Marley. She rolls her eyes, but drapes an arm over the petite Asian's shoulders. There's a lot she can say, but she doesn't want to, mostly because the scene in front of her is so enchantingly beautiful and sacred that she really doesn't want to ruin it. Tears spring to her eyes and it's clear that Quinn and Sam, despite whatever their history was, are made for each other.

And although Marley didn't think of it, she's pretty sure Quinn Fabray is the best Christmas present for Sam.

* * *

><p><em>12. Jake<em>

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the school shooting is affecting Sam the most. Sure, Marley gets jumpy and Tina cries every two seconds and Blaine spends more time in the boxing ring than usual, but Sam is…different. Jake doesn't know the guy that well, but he knows enough and that's that the regular, bubbly, happy-go-lucky Sam Evans is now gone. It's sort of like he folds into himself and shuts everybody else out. And usually Blaine would be the one to pull him out of his shell, but since Blaine's busy with trying to keep himself safe – well, Jake's not sure who's responsibility it is anymore. The Glee club has always looked out for each other, but after the school shooting…it's like there are pieces gone that they can't get back.

They're in the choir room when it happens. Mr. Schue is talking about singing at a benefit or something, when all of a sudden, Ryder's phone starts to ring. Marley jumps a mile out of her seat, Tina starts to sniffle, and even Sugar darts straight behind the drum set in hiding. Jake's heart speeds up twice as fast and Blaine grips the edge of his chair until his knuckles turn white. But Sam's reaction surprises – and scares – everybody.

He kicks back his chair and races out of the choir room, with no explanation or sound.

Ryder silences his phone, a string of incoherent words that sound like a fumbling apology falling out of his mouth. But everybody's already over it and there's a buzz among them – Jake hears Tina ask Blaine what's happening with Sam and when Blaine doesn't (or physically _can't_) answer…the entire choir room falls silent. It's like it finally dawns on all of them that maybe Sam – who's usually so calm – is doing worse than they think. Jake doesn't speak up, though. It's not his place and he doesn't know any of them that well, anyway, but it still tugs at his heartsrings.

"You know, maybe if you weren't so obsessed with boxing, you would've realized that Sam isn't okay," Artie says suddenly, directing his gaze to Blaine.

"Like you knew he was struggling?" Blaine shoots back.

Jake knows it's coming – it's so obvious in the way they regard each other, how Blaine's eyes narrow and Artie's fingers clutch at his chair tighter. Jake thinks he should intervene or something, but before he can say anything, the entire room just _erupts_. They're all yelling and blaming each other, but nobody is really doing anything. Jake can't really handle it and all the screaming is getting to him, so he presses a soft kiss to Marley's forehead, mumbles a lame excuse, grabs his backpack, and walks out.

Part of him wants to find Sam, but he knows that if he does, there's nothing he can say to fix whatever it is he's going through. There aren't enough words or gestures or people to help erase what they went through that day. So instead, Jake leaves it be, because he's still new and there's no reason for him to go poking his nose into everybody's business. Let the older Glee kids deal with it – Jake's got his own problems to work out.

But when Sam doesn't come to Glee club the next day, or the day after that, or the day after _that_, Jake starts to worry. It doesn't help that Marley is practically Level 10 on the freak-out scale, but honestly, none of them can concentrate on singing or dancing right now. Jake even tries to call Puck to see if maybe Sam went to California, but Puck just snorts and says not to worry about it. In fact, he cryptically says,

"Relax. Sam will get exactly what he needs in due time."

It makes no sense, but whatever.

A week later, Sam walks into Glee club. His eyes are bright and he seems okay, but there's still a weight on his shoulders that shouldn't be there. Still, he sits in his seat and sings when he's supposed to and steps on their feet when they try to dance. It's all courteous and polite, but the tension from the week before is still bubbling underneath everybody's skin. Mr. Schue senses it, too, which is probably why Glee club ends twenty minutes early.

Jake grabs his backpack and is about to make a break for it, but before he steps down from the bleachers, there's a collective gasp that ripples throughout the room. The soft, purposeful click of heeled boots against the school floor makes everybody stop what they're doing and lift their heads and none of them can even really process what or who is happening right now, but Sam…

Sam is across the room in two seconds.

There's a sudden calm that falls over them and nobody dares to make a move, because this is the first time they've seen Sam react so positively to something, ever since that day. It's hard to tell where one starts and the other ends, because it looks like just a mess of limbs and blonde hair, but when an unmistakable giggle fills the choir room and that's when it hits Jake.

_Quinn Fabray._

It's like her presence fills Sam up, makes him whole again. His face is buried in her neck and she smiles against his shoulder, a grin on her lips. In a way, it's like they're intruding on some private moment, but it's too…too _good_ of a sight to look away.

When Sam finally pulls away – just enough so that everybody else can see who it is – there's a smile on his face that's genuine and reminiscent of the old Sam Evans. And just like that they, all let out a breath of relief. Maybe he's going to be okay, after all.

And maybe, just maybe, it's all because of Quinn Fabray.


	10. Angel With A Shotgun

**SUMMARY: If Quinn were still hanging out with the Skanks and Sam was just another clean-cut, preppy football player. Who maybe had a thing for girls with pink hair.**

The first time Sam Evans saw Quinn Fabray was when she ducked underneath the football field bleachers in a cloud of cigarette smoke. She was wearing a gauzy, black skirt that was too long for her small frame, a cropped top that showed off her midriff and back tattoo, and far too much jewelry. He also remembers that head of bright pink hair – hard to miss, especially when it hit the sunlight just right.

Since then, he's gotten into a habit of always searching for her. Not staring, not following, not even stalking (at least, he hopes not), but just making sure where she is – making sure that she's on his radar. He doesn't tell anybody about it because they'll make fun of him. How could hardcore, punk rebel Quinn Fabray ever be interested in clean-cut, preppy, golden boy Sam Evans? She's out of his league and way too dangerous, but it doesn't stop him from keeping her in his range.

They don't interact much – or at all. In fact, save for a few bumps and misses in the crowded school hallways, Sam and Quinn don't even exist in the same world. But he can't help it. When he sees that bright pink flash of promise floating among all the dull shades of boredom, his heart starts to race a little faster than normal.

"You know, I heard she's dating a 40 year old biker," Rachel comments flippantly, her eyes trailing a group of girls – the Skanks – as they make their way underneath the bleachers. Quinn leads the pack, a cigarette dangling from her fingers, while the other girls follow close behind, covered in a cloud of smoke.

"You don't know that," Sam says immediately, almost defensively. He ignores the look that Rachel shoots him and pretends that he doesn't see how fast she judges him for jumping to Quinn's defense. Out of all his friends, Rachel's the only one who knows about his little crush on Quinn, but that doesn't mean she's accepting of it. In fact, it's the opposite. Rachel thinks he's crazy, but between her knowing or Puck and Finn knowing…Sam definitely likes it better this way.

It's not like he _wants_ to find Quinn intriguing. Puck and Finn keep pushing him to date Brittany or Santana and even though they're both gorgeous cheerleaders, Sam can't help but think they're just…boring. There's no substance to what either of them have to say, just empty words and promises about how they're going to rock his world.

Who cares?

When the football slips through Sam's fingers and rolls underneath the football bleachers, he doesn't think twice about it - this is his chance. With a grin on his face, he jogs over, running a hand through his hair to try and get it under control. Smoke billows out from the unknown depths of the bleachers and he coughs, but he ducks under the railing anyway, squinting to adjust his eyes to the darkness.

"I think this is yours,"

The voice is soft and gentle, unassuming and sure. There's a hint of scratch to it, barely there, but it curls around the words and Sam is immediately transfixed. He's not super poetic or anything, but he's pretty convinced, in that moment (all 5 seconds of it), that he could write epic poems about her voice.

"Uh…thanks," he manages. There's an awkward silence between them and Sam wants to say something funny and smart and charming and sexy, but the only thing he can think about is how her bright pink hair makes her look so bad-ass and so…_hot_.

"You can leave now," she tosses him the football with one hand and he catches it with ease. Quinn takes a long puff from her cigarette and eyes him up and down – it should make him feel vulnerable, but he just feels a little nervous under her gaze. It's so blatant and brave and there's no calculation in the way she flicks her wrist, spraying ash across the dirt – there's no hidden meaning or manipulation in the way she looks at him.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knows he's supposed to say something to break the ice, but his tongue feels like sandpaper and he's painfully aware that Quinn's expression quickly turns to anything but interested. She quirks an eyebrow at him and there's a flicker of boredom in those hazel eyes – a mixture of irritation and curiosity, but Sam's not going to stick around to find out.

So instead, he nods awkwardly and backs out of her personal space.

That's the first time they ever speak to each other.

* * *

><p>Through some twisted logic that made sense to her at 3 AM in the morning, Quinn honestly once thought that dying her hair pink would make her less noticeable. She's wrong, clearly. The truth is, she could dye her hair neon green or shave it all off or just keep it the same, boring blonde – it wouldn't matter, because she'd still turn heads. It sucks.<p>

All she wants is to walk down the school hallway and be invisible. After the year she's had, Quinn thinks she deserves it. But McKinley is brutal and ruthless, so every day; she walks down that corridor and avoids all the inquisitive gazes, all asking the same question: What happened to her?

(She wishes she knew, but she doesn't).

But through the sea of all the irrelevant people, there's one that stands out. A tall, blonde athlete with piercing green eyes and a dopey mouth – Sam Evans. He stares when she walks down the hallway and his eyes linger longer than they're supposed to, but instead of making her feel uncomfortable, Quinn feels…beautiful. There's something in the way he does it that isn't intrusive or too personal and she can't really describe it.

(Nor does she ever want to, because girls like her don't like guys like him).

The first time they speak, she's hard around the edges and she knows it – there's a certain way it comes out, all curt and snappy, and it means her walls are up. But even with her horrid personality, Sam is still polite and fumbling and it warms her heart. It's a sensation she's not familiar with, but she could definitely get used to it. She wipes her face clear of any emotion when he leaves the space underneath the bleachers though, because she'll die before the rest of the Skanks see that she might possibly be falling for – God forbid –

_a_ _jock_.

* * *

><p>"You're everything she hates," Rachel says, her tone of voice even and rational. Sam quirks an eyebrow, his eyes still focused on the Astronomy textbook open in front of him.<p>

"How would you know?" he asks, chewing on the end of his pen.

"I used to be friends with her, remember?" Rachel scoffs bitterly. "Look, you're a little out of her league. And vice versa. She goes for the bad boys,"

"And I'm not?"

Rachel laughs wholeheartedly, clamping a hand over her mouth to suppress her giggles. "No offense, Sammy, but you're as clean-cut and wholesome as they get. Think about it: blonde-haired, blue-eyed, all-American quarterback with a heart of gold falling in love with a Skank?"

Sam winces at the name Rachel uses to call Quinn – he knows it's what their little clique is called, but it's so derogatory and he hates the image it projects. For some reason, Sam can't imagine Quinn being the kind of girl that sleeps around. There's something a little bit more innocent in her eyes that he can't exactly pinpoint – but it's what hits him most about her.

"Just take it from me – you're not her type," Rachel says finally, gathering her books and leaving the library. Sam just nods his head and doesn't watch her leave – there are times when Rachel is so incredibly stubborn and unyielding that it makes him irritated. He has to remind himself that it's just the way Rachel is, though.

Unfortunately, in the case of Quinn Fabray, Rachel is also frustratingly accurate.

* * *

><p>She's not a regular at these parties. They're usually held at some unknown cheerleader's house and it's usually filled to the brim with drunk athletes pawing at their girlfriends in public and frankly, it's disgusting. But Allie, their resident pothead, wants to "slum it," so that's where they end up. The Skanks don't know who's house party they're crashing, but all it takes is a glimpse of the circular driveway for Quinn to discover that it's Matt Rutherford's house.<p>

Which means the football team is definitely in attendance.

Her heart skips a beat (and then some), when she spots a familiar Ford truck, but that's before she scolds herself for even _knowing_ what kind of freaking car he drives. Instead, she scurries to catch up with Allie and the rest of the group, walking into the Rutherford's house with a hesitant step. Just as she suspects, there are drunk people everywhere and there's a stench wafting throughout the house that's a familiar mixture of beer, weed, and who knows what else. Quinn's only just getting used to the smell of cigarette smoke, so the thick air in the house suffocates her, a little. Still, she's not about to tell the Skanks that – instead, she follows them towards the kitchen, grabs a beer, and leans against the counter, boredom settling over her facial features comfortably.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in," Santana Lopez, in her impossibly short mini dress, has a voice that could sound either beautiful or like nails on a chalkboard. For Quinn, it's always the latter. The Latina comes into the kitchen, flanked by Brittany Pierce and Rachel Berry and about ten other cheerleaders and if it wasn't for the fact that Quinn used to be one of them – she'd actually be terrified.

"We're allowed here," Macy, all petite and green-streaked hair, pipes up. Her voice is nothing compared to Santana's and for a split second, even Quinn scoffs. Until she realizes whose side she's supposed to be on, anyway.

"I don't think so," Santana sneers and steps forward, grabbing the red cup out of Macy's hands. She shrieks a little and shrinks back, just as Quinn rolls her eyes and intercepts the two.

"Drop it, Santana," she warns, narrowing her eyes at her former best friend. It's not like she wants to be mean and it's not like she actually enjoys the snarl and snap that comes with her words, but there's no other choice – this is who she is now and the world just has to accept her for it.

Santana's chocolate brown eyes glint with mischief and she swirls the liquid in the red cup slowly, her eyebrow cocked in defiance. Quinn knows exactly what she's going to do – it's a move that Quinn has perfected years ago, back when she used to be Queen Bee at McKinley.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

* * *

><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Sam sees a familiar flash of pink hair duck into the kitchen discreetly and his heart starts to pound. It's like an instant reaction and he can't help it – it's embarrassing and if Mike or Puck or Finn find out about his insane attraction to the girl with the bright hair, he's dead.<p>

"Dude, pay attention, would you?! We're losing!" Mike punches him in the arm – not too strong, but not entirely weak, either, and Sam snaps to it. They're in the middle of a heated beer pong game and even though his teammate is sporting some serious bright red Asian glow, Sam and Mike never lose at beer pong.

It's stupid and it probably embodies every single stereotype of a football jock, but it's harmless, so whatever.

Just then, Puck holds up his hand to stop the game and gestures towards the kitchen, where a large crowd is starting to gather. There's a commotion, but Sam doesn't really think too much of it – it's a Rutherford house party, after all. He can't remember the last time he's gone to one and it didn't end in the cops breaking it up or some kids getting into a fight.

But for some reason, Puck drops the ball and heads towards the action, leaving Mike, Finn, and Sam to follow his lead. The amount of perfume alone lets them know that there are cheerleaders in the room, but when Sam sees who they're all ganging up against, his heart sinks.

Because it's Quinn, standing in between a small girl with green streaks in her hair and Santana, whose expression is a mix of boredom and complete enjoyment. He knows nothing good is going to happen – in fact, judging by the way Santana's flicking her wrist with the cup in her hand…Sam knows that someone's going to walk out of the kitchen, drenched in beer or water or _something_. He's not surprised to see Rachel beside Santana, either. Despite being completely different from each other, he knows the girls have one thing in common – an unbridled hate for the Skanks.

"What are you gonna do, Fabray? Smoke me to death?" Santana scoffs.

"A girl can try," Quinn snarls back. He knows it's supposed to sound menacing and he knows that to some extent, it works, because some of the girls actually shrink back at the sound of her voice.

"What are you doing here, anyway? Don't you guys usually slum it underneath the bleachers?"

A laugh filters through the crowd and Sam winces – he knows McKinley is cruel and bitter, but it never makes any of this okay. With a quick glance, he notices Santana starting to move forward and without even thinking twice about it, he steps in.

"Don't do it," Sam says tiredly, gripping Santana's wrist. Beer falls out of the cup and trickles down his hand, but he ignores it – it's easy to ignore when everybody's eyes are on him.

Because who would have thought that a jock like Sam Evans – the McKinley High Titans' famed quarterback – would be sticking up for a Skank like Quinn Fabray? There's a beat of confusion that crosses Santana's features, before resignation settles in. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Sam knows that Santana still cares. So to everybody's surprise but his, she wrenches herself away from him, narrows her eyes at Quinn with a wordless threat, and walks out.

A part of Sam wonders what it'd be like if he decides to turn around and face Quinn. But the other part – the bigger, conventional, quarterback part – just forces him to walk away.

* * *

><p>"You're slipping," Rachel slams her pile of textbooks onto the table and plops down in the seat beside him. "That thing you did at the party last weekend? Major foul, Sam,"<p>

"God, you're annoying," Sam smirks, moving aside his lunch tray so Rachel can put hers down. She glares at him, underneath her long eyelashes, but she's so little and harmless that he's really not intimidated.

"Sam, you can't just go around defending her!" she screeches and as usual, Rachel Berry is wildly over-dramatic. "People _talk_,"

He takes a deep breath and lets it out steadily. He knows people talk about him behind his back, but he also knows that it's all mostly good things; he's lucky in that sense. "I'm aware of that, Rachel. But what did you want me to do? Santana was being a bully and you and Brittany were helping her be one,"

"I wasn't _helping_," Rachel scowls. "Okay fine, maybe I was. But Quinn and I…"

"Y'all used to be close, I get it. But just because you're not friends now doesn't give you the right to be mean to her," he points out hopefully. "I just did what I thought was right,"

Rachel sighs noisily, her fingers playing with the fraying edges of her textbooks. "I know you did." There's a beat of silence between them and Sam takes the time to scarf down the rest of his lunch. He leans over and gives her a quick, one-armed hug, before standing up.

"I need to cram for the Spanish test, so I'll see you later?"

She nods and Sam's about to turn around and walk away when he feels her small fingers tugging at his shirt. He stops and looks down at her, those brown eyes all wide and trusting.

"I take back what I said. Maybe…maybe you are her type, after all."

* * *

><p>She slams her locker shut and leans back against it, trying to rid her mind of the long day that's halfway behind her. There's heaviness in her chest that she didn't ask for and it's irritating and nagging, but she knows exactly what she has to do to get rid of it. The thing is, Quinn doesn't do confrontations well. She's used to having the upper hand – which means a lot of stare-downs and intimidating eyebrow-raises, but when it comes to actually being grateful to someone…she kind of can't keep it together. The Skanks wouldn't understand it, so she never told them. But seeing him down the hallway, shoving his textbooks into his backpack…Quinn knows she has to do it now, before he's swarmed by the cheerleaders that always seem to follow him around. (Or Rachel Berry, but she doesn't want to think about that).<p>

"Hey," she says, sidling up to him. Her mouth feels like sandpaper and her lips are impossibly dry and she's pretty sure she's shaking in her combat boots. It's pathetic, really.

Sam drops his backpack at his feet and stares down at her, his eyebrows raised and his mouth a little agape, as if he's in shock. "Uh…hi," he replies, the left corner of his mouth turning up into a smile.

Quinn nearly loses it.

She doesn't know how, why, or when, but all of a sudden, she's overcome with this urge to grab him and kiss him senseless and although parts of her really want to, she's trying her best to control all of it. Instead, she plasters a scowl on her face and stares back up at him. "I wanted to say thanks," she snaps.

"For what?"

"For the other night," Quinn's voice wavers. She doesn't want it to, because it sounds weak and vulnerable, but there's an unmistakable shake that comes at the end of her words. Maybe it's the way Sam's looking at her – with a fire, hunger, and open trust that she's not used to seeing. Maybe it's the way he leans in towards her – like he's actually interested in what she's saying. Maybe it's just him.

"The Santana thing? Don't worry about it," he shrugs and just like that, the intense gaze in his green eyes disappears. She misses it, for an instant, before realization sets in.

"I'm not worrying about it," she spits out. "I just thought I'd say thanks,"

Sam closes his locker door shut and slings his backpack over one shoulder. He's shuffling his feet like he's about to leave, but Quinn is desperate for him to stay – for what, though? He stops, then leans down a little bit closer to her, and although her heart is pounding like mad, she's still sober enough to hear him.

"You haven't actually said it, though,"

When he pulls back, there's a satisfied smirk on his lips and Quinn wants to slap him and kiss him all at the same time, but she just stands there, completely dumbfounded. He turns on his heel and walks away from her and for the first time that day, Quinn actually feels light. She already misses him, in ways that she doesn't even know possible, but there's a weightless luminescence that she's not used to feeling – that she doesn't _hate_ feeling. She knows it's unheard of, a growing affection between a girl, who wears way too much makeup and hides behind bright pink hair dye, and a boy, who only knows how to love in the purest of forms. But underneath all the doubts, there's a genuine brightness that she doesn't remember feeling before.

And it's all because of a boy with green eyes and a hopeful smile.


	11. Sweet Spot

**SUMMARY: How Sam Evans handles being left behind. Set after Season 3.**

* * *

><p>When Sam steps into the choir room for the first Glee club rehearsal of his senior year, the only thing he notices is how depressed everybody looks.<p>

It makes him a little irritated, to be honest. Glee club is his happy place and they're all sort of ruining it for him, with the frowns and the sniffles and the longing looks cast over at empty chairs. He slumps into a seat at the back, careful not to say anything that might trigger an angry comment from Blaine or worse, a fresh wave of tears from Tina.

"It's just so sad," Sugar is the first to speak, her voice cracking. The rest of them nod their heads somberly and Tina starts to sniffle quietly and really, the only thing Sam can conjure up is an eye-roll.

He knows Blaine misses Kurt and Tina misses Mike and Brittany misses Santana, but do they have to be so depressed about it? The way Sam sees it; it's their senior year. It comes around only once and they should just quit moping and start enjoying it. Being a senior in Glee club means they get to decide who gets the solos, they get to skip out on costume designs, and they get first pick for dance partners. And all those things sound pretty kick-ass, so he just really wishes everybody would kind of get over the whole 'original Glee club members' thing.

When Mr. Schuester finally makes his grand entrance, he brings along three new recruits – Wade, Jake, and Marley. They're sort of shy and they shuffle their feet nervously, which makes Sam smile, because he remembers his first day at Glee like it was yesterday. The three new kids take their seats at the front and then Mr. Schuester starts babbling about how this year's going to be fantastic. Sam gets sort of excited, because he wants Glee to do well this year, he kind of wants to show the past members that they can make it to Nationals just fine without them.

"It's impossible, Mr. Schue. Without Rachel Berry's Barbara-esque voice and determination, we have nothing," Artie interrupts Mr. Schue mid-speech and Sam's eyes just widen in disbelief, because seriously? Seriously?

"I'll have you know that I have just the same amount of determination – if not more – as Rachel Berry! Mr. Schue, I strongly believe that a show choir needs diversity at the forefront of the group. What better way to show diversity than putting an Asian as lead soloist?" Tina is grasping at something, her voice is sort of desperate and pleading, and if it weren't for the obvious tears in her eyes, Sam would think she was just being selfish.

"Actually, if it's alright, I'd like to offer myself as lead soloist," Blaine's voice is quiet, but composed and when Sam looks over to him, he sees that the ex-Warbler's hands are curled into fists.

Then, without any indication, the entire Glee club just sort of explodes. Tina starts in on how Rachel groomed her to take over the club, Blaine and Artie are arguing over god-knows-what, while the new kids just sort of shrink back in their seats. Brittany is just gnawing on her lower lip and Mr. Schuester looks absolutely clueless.

It's sad, really.

How did it all come down to this? Glee club was supposed to be tighter after winning Nationals. They were supposed to be able to handle being on their own, but now it was back to the beginning – fighting over solos, fighting to be the star…just plain fighting. In hindsight, Sam really should have seen it coming.

This is what happens when you get left behind.

* * *

><p>Sugar throws the first Glee club party in their second week of school. It's not something they do very often, at least not all the members together. When Rachel and Finn and the rest of the gang were still in Lima, they used to always be split up. But since the group is so small now…well, there are good things and bad things to both, he supposes.<p>

The Motta's house is more like a mansion and Sam honestly feels ridiculous, showing up in his five dollar board shorts. He's drinking sparkling water, for heaven's sakes, and even though it's really awesome that everybody's hanging out, it feels a little strange. He can't help it, but his mind thinks it – that if the graduated Glee club members were here, they'd be having so much more fun.

Not that hanging out with the new recruits isn't fun. Jake is pretty much Puck 2.0 and Wade sort of reminds Sam of a mix between Mercedes and Kurt, but like, in the best way possible. And Marley…well, Marley is like the unborn child of Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray. And okay, Sam rolls his eyes when he sees everybody else mope over this whole long-distance relationship thing, but the truth is…yeah, Sam misses them too.

"Hey, man," Blaine sidles up to him, his lips curled around the edge of a fancy drink.

"Hey," Sam replies. Ever since Kurt left to New York, Sam's sort of made it his job to sort of look out for Blaine. Aside from working at Burt's auto shop, it's really the only thing he can think of, since the Hudson-Hummels are still letting him live at their house. But Blaine is pretty cool and Sam thinks it's kind of awesome to have a gay bro around.

"Feels different, doesn't it?" Blaine notes, his gaze resting on Jake and Marley, who are splashing each other in the far corner of the Motta's pool – it's obvious they're flirting and it's obvious Marley has it bad for Jake. "All of this…would be so different if they were still around," Blaine sighs and Sam sort of nods along, except he can't help wincing. Blaine talks about the graduated class as if they died or something and it's just…it's just not right.

"Well, Kurt wouldn't have wanted you to be so down on yourself," Sam points out, taking another sip of his sparkling water.

"I guess not,"

There's a pause between the two of them and Sam sort of lets it coast, until he notices Blaine fiddling with the bright yellow paper umbrella that adorns the edge of his glass.

"You miss him, don't you," It's not a question, because there's no real need for an answer. Sam just knows these things – he might have to try really hard with school and dance steps and remembering to clean up his room, but he's not stupid when it comes to other people's feelings.

"Yeah, I do," Blaine's voice quivers a little and a part of Sam wants to shake him. Blaine is acting as if he needs Kurt and that's bad. He needs to know that he can survive on his own – it's something Sam had to learn in his junior year and he realizes, it's something they all really need to learn, how to survive without the graduates. But Sam knows how difficult that is. And he's not going to deny that little stab in his heart whenever someone mentions their names.

"I miss him, too,"

* * *

><p>He's standing at his locker, rearranging some of his books, when Marley suddenly appears. There's this big grin on her face, her arms clutching her books, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear – the gestures all remind him of Rachel Berry, so he just chokes back the memory and gives her a smile back.<p>

"Hey, Sammy," she says, her voice gentle and easy. It's kind of awesome, because out of all the new kids in Glee, Sam gets along really well with Marley. Maybe it's because they have similar backgrounds or something, but he sort of feels like an older brother to her, like if he can protect her from the McKinley idiots, then it's a good thing.

"What's up?"

"Well, you know how we're doing duets in Glee this week?" she asks, her head cocked to one side. Sam inwardly groans. Duets make him think of Quinn and when he thinks of Quinn…well, it could go either way, depending on what day it is. He doesn't like dwelling on the negative, but every once in a while, there's a wave of dull pain that sort of hits him and it swells throughout the day. He just keeps wondering if there had been anything he could've done to keep Quinn around, if there was some way he could've kept her interested long enough for Finn to just back off. But most of the time (thankfully) his memories of Quinn are good.

It just…well, it hurts to miss what was good.

"Yeah?" he raises an eyebrow, even though he's pretty sure where this conversation is going.

"I was wondering…do you want to pair up for it?" Marley sort of just exhales the last part, her feet shuffling nervously against the hard floor. He almost starts to chuckle, because she's adorable, but instead, he just gives her one of his lopsided smiles. He shuts his locker and casually slings an arm around her shoulders, guiding them both down the hallway.

"I'd love to," he says it eagerly, not just to assure Marley that he wants to do it, but because he really does want to do it. Sam's never sung with her before and she's got a great voice – it's like a mix of Rachel's powerful tone and Quinn's gentle register – so he's excited to see how they both work together. "What song do you have in mind?"

"I was thinking we could do Lucky by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat?"

Without warning, Sam stops in his tracks. That song…it all sort of comes rushing back to him.

The late nights, the crying, and the painful heartbreak, interspersed with flashes of bright memories and smiles. Sure, he dated Santana and Mercedes and a couple of girls at the beginning of his senior year, but none of them had really lived up to the great Quinn Fabray. And it's not like Sam doesn't think about her, because…okay, he thinks about her a lot. And not just as a girlfriend, but as a friend.

And if he's being completely honest, she's the one he misses the most.

"Maybe we can think of another song," Sam suggests, his voice dropping to a low whisper. Marley nods, her eyes wide with confusion, before scuttling away.

* * *

><p>When Kitty Wilde walks into the choir room and Mr. Schue announces that she's joining the Glee club, a part of Sam actually just…lights up. He doesn't expect it to happen and it's definitely not in his power, but she's standing there, in front of everybody, and it's all just so damn familiar. The blonde ponytail that falls in a perfect curl, the red flared skirt, the little smirk that curls the corners of her pink lips. And when Mr. Schue asks her to sing a little something and she breaks out into a cutesy routine of 'Come See About Me,' Sam just about has a heart attack.<p>

"Obvious, much?" Tina whispers, nudging her shoulder against his.

"She's not _that_ great," Blaine adds, from the other side.

Sam rolls his eyes, because even though they're both his best friends, Blaine and Tina have been getting really annoying lately. Whether it's talking about the new Glee kids behind their back or whether it's asserting their seniority to get the last solo…it's like being the leader of Glee is turning them into monsters or something.

But because Mike just broke up with Tina and Kurt's on a school trip to Los Angeles, Sam's not going to call them out on it. He figures they need to deal with their own problems in their own way, even if it means bitching about every single little thing.

So when Mr. Schue dismisses Glee club, instead of going up to talk to Kitty like he originally planned, he follows Blaine and Tina out of the choir room. They talk and it's semi-interesting, but Sam doesn't really pay attention. Instead, his thoughts are on the blonde cheerleader.

Some things never change.

* * *

><p>It's a really bad day in Glee.<p>

Tina just found out Mike's dating someone new, Blaine and Kurt got into a fight, and even Brittany – who's always so happy – seems to be walking around with a dark cloud over her head. On any other day, Sam would've pulled a funny celebrity impression to ease the tension in the room, but he can't muster up any energy for it. For once, he feels exactly the way they all do – down, rejected, and left behind. He tries to be cheerful and plasters on a smile when Jake and Marley walk in, but it's useless.

Kitty struts into the choir room, all flippy ponytail and swishy skirt and Sam brightens a little. It's been a month since she joined and he hasn't made a move yet – for some reason, he feels a little guilty. Like if he dates Kitty, he'd be cheating on Quinn and Mercedes and god, even _Santana_, who pretty much dragged him through the mud. But he feels guilty anyway, because the original Glee kids…their names are pretty much synonymous with gods. They're untouched legends and even though it's been nearly a year since they left, Glee club still hasn't been completely the same.

When Mr. Schue walks in and announces that the theme for Sectionals is vulnerability, Sam wants to scoff so badly – it's the perfect theme for them right now. Tina immediately gets up and starts writing down song suggestions on the whiteboard and Blaine heads straight for the piano, his fingers playing an echoing, aching melody. Kitty rolls her eyes and kicks up her feet to rest on the back of his chair and Sam leans forward, just taking it all in. Mr. Schue's sort of oblivious to the mood in the choir room, but Sam notices it more today than any other day.

They haven't moved on.

Tina's song suggestions are all about lost love, long distance relationships, and missing someone so much it hurts. Artie has his laptop out, but instead of sourcing for music, he's writing an email to Mercedes. Even Brittany's got her phone out, going through old pictures on her camera roll. The thing is, Sam knows it gets hard when you miss someone. He misses his parents and siblings every single second of every single day. But the Glee club…they're so split down the middle – the newbies versus the veterans.

And neither of them can move forward if they can't let go.

* * *

><p>It's Christmas time and Sam drives up to Nashville early this year. After fending off his parents' countless questions about school and work and friends, he settles back into his old family lifestyle pretty quick. Kentucky had never felt like home and although Lima does, his heart still fully belongs to Nashville. There's something about that Southern air that's different and warming and if it were up to Sam, he'd live here forever. But he knows the Glee club needs him, Blaine and Tina and Artie and Brittany need him, and it'd be crazy to change schools so late in the year.<p>

(Sometimes he wishes Finn and Rachel had never found him. Then maybe his heart wouldn't feel like it was constantly being pulled in five different directions all at once.)

It's after dinner and Sam is helping Stacy wrap her Christmas presents when the doorbell rings. He waits a minute, trying to figure out who it could possibly be. His parents are out in the backyard with a bottle of wine and Stevie is in the basement, plucking away on his hand-me-down guitar. Stacy stares up at him with wide eyes and Sam shrugs, dropping a kiss on his little sister's forehead, before going to answer the door.

It's like seeing a ghost. Or an old memory.

_Quinn Fabray._

He thinks it's a dream. It's not possible – she's supposed to be in Yale, in New Haven, doing amazing things with her life. She's supposed to be spending Christmas with her family in Florida or visiting Rachel and Kurt in New York or back in Lima with Beth and Shelby. She's literally supposed to be anywhere but _here_ – standing on the Evans' front porch in Nashville, freaking Tennessee. But regardless of how many times he repeats it to himself, it doesn't change the fact that she's actually here, in front of him, close enough to touch.

"Hi, you."

Her voice is melodic, just like it's always been – some sort of soft, comforting symphony that he had no idea he missed so much until now. Her hair is longer, wisps of it falling gently on her shoulders, and her eyes are bright – alive and real and Sam is literally doing everything he can to play it cool. He invites her in, because it's the only thing he can think of right now and the minute she steps inside, Stacy comes barging out of the living room. His little sister attacks Quinn with the force of a hurricane and he's reminded of all the times they used to take care of her together – that was practically three years ago.

Sam lets her say hello to his parents (they shoot him a questioning look, but he brushes it off) and lets her drop her suitcase in the spare room, before they head back outside again. He gestures towards the wicker rocking chairs, but she shakes his head and with a smile that could light up all of Nashville, Quinn starts to skip happily towards his old, beat up Nissan Frontier. She hops up onto the open flatbed and swings her legs underneath her and it's all so damn familiar that it makes Sam's head spin.

"Merry Christmas," he says lamely, climbing into the back of the truck to sit next to her. "I don't…I don't exactly know what to say," He takes a deep breath and lets it out. It's not the smoothest opening line, but he's learned a long time ago that smooth and suave will never be his forte, especially around someone like Quinn.

"I know I shouldn't have just barged in on you and your family, I just…didn't really know where else to go," she's gripping the edge of the truck tightly and Sam steals a glance at her. One look is all it takes, because he can already see the cracks in her, the parts that have broken somehow, in some way. He wants to help her, wants to put an arm around her and tell her that it's okay. But the truth is - it isn't.

None of it is.

Because where she's cracked, so is he. Where she's broken, so is he. And maybe it's because he's missed her so much or maybe it's because she looks like she hasn't been taken care of in months…but it comes as second nature. He moves an inch closer, wraps an arm around her shoulders, and pulls her in for a hug. She sags against his body, curling into every space available and honestly, Sam's never felt lighter in his entire life. Quinn has a way of making him feel completely worthy and he's missed it, even though he doesn't want to admit it.

"You're always welcome here," he mumbles against her hair, breathing in that familiar smell of strawberries – it immediately takes him back to motel rooms, rehearsals, and the McKinley auditorium. He wants to ask more, god knows he deserves it. But he reminds himself that this is Quinn Fabray – she'll offer it when she wants to, in her own time.

"I could've gone to Florida or New York or Lima, but I just…I really missed you," she sighs, looks up at him with her big, hazel eyes, and Sam practically falls apart, right there on his truck bed.

"I missed you too."


	12. Family Ties: 2

**SUMMARY: Because everyday life for a married couple is never without some excitement, drama, and a life lesson or two.**

* * *

><p><em>Ryan Samuel Evans<em>

When Sam walks through the front door of his house, the first thing he hears is screaming. It doesn't surprise him, honestly. With three kids of different ages running around, he's gotten used to the noise. So instead of panicking, Sam just dumps his workout gear by the door, tosses the keys into the little bowl his wife _insists _on using, and takes a stroll through the house. He doesn't even get to the kitchen when he hears her.

"Sam Evans, get your ass up here and discipline your kids!"

The voice is unmistakably Quinn's and she's angry, which puts Sam into ultimate fix-it mode. He sprints up the stairs and quickly finds her with both hands on her kids' heads, trying to keep them apart. If it wasn't for the blazing look in her eyes, Sam would've made some lame joke or laughed, because watching his two youngest kids lunge at each other with their mother restraining them is kind of hilarious.

"What's going on?" Sam asks, crossing the room in two long strides. He scoops up Lucy, their six year old, and balances her on his hip. She immediately buries her face in his neck and mumbles something incoherent against his skin.

"She read something that was mine! It was private!"

"Ryan, _calm down_," Quinn insists, obviously frustrated with the whole predicament. "Your sister didn't mean to read anything; she was just looking for some paper,"

"Charlotte's room has tons of paper! And so does the study! She can't just walk into anybody's room and just take stuff! That's _stealing_!"

Sam's eyes grow wide, because honestly, he's never really seen Ryan like this before. His only son is usually really mellow and calm - sometimes the kid is more rational than his parents (it gets on Quinn's nerves, but Sam thinks it's like having a tiny adult around the house). So for him to blow up at anything is really out of character. Sam tries to send a telepathic message to his wife, but it's clear she's exhausted from a long day of battling the kids – so he hands her Lucy and goes to stand in front of Ryan.

"Breathe in and out, little man," Sam ruffles his son's blonde hair, and he immediately scowls, ducking out of his father's touch. "Hey,"

"I don't want her looking through my stuff _ever again_,"

"Well, we can't promise you that," Sam takes a quick look over his shoulder at the desk and smirks. "Especially if you leave everything out like that. Anything you don't put away neatly is fair game, you know the rules,"

Ryan frowns, contemplating his next move, and although Sam is bracing himself for another unexpected outburst, he breathes a sigh of relief when Ryan's shoulders sag. "Okay, fine. Whatever," he mumbles.

Sam shakes his head. "No, not _whatever_. Apologize to your sister – and mean it,"

"I'm not the one who read something private!" Ryan shouts and Sam rolls his eyes because honestly, he doesn't have time for this. Shooting Quinn a desperate look, she shrugs, shifting Lucy from one hip to the other.

"Look, you're both sorry for what you did, right? Ryan, yelling and screaming and throwing a tantrum isn't how you become a man. And Lucy, you know better than to go through other people's things, right?" Quinn rattles off.

Lucy nods once and Ryan shrugs and Sam breathes out evenly, because even though he's supposed to keep them in line – he's just really grateful Quinn's around to lay down the law sometimes.

"Alright, y'all start your homework. I've got to get dinner started," Quinn says, handing Lucy over to Sam, who smiles at his wife. He's a redneck from the South through and through, but Quinn's always been a city girl, so he can't help it that he sort of melts when her Southern drawl (yes, she has one, and it's sexy as hell) makes an appearance.

Sam balances Lucy on his hip and throws one last look over at Ryan, who's sitting on his bed, tapping his drumsticks against his thigh. He's not entirely sure what's going on with his only son right now – Ryan's usually laidback and easygoing, but seeing him fidget this much is making Sam sort of nervous. For a split second, his mind reels into the scary realm of drugs and alcohol, but Ryan's only ten and he hasn't shown any signs of a downward spiral before this, so he doesn't really think it's a possibility.

Instead, he decides to give the kid a little space. Maybe Ryan's just tired of being stuck in between two sisters. Or maybe his baseball training is getting to him. They're all so busy with their lives, it really could be anything, Sam thinks, closing the door behind him.

"Daddy?" Lucy's gentle voice brings him out of his daydream and he focuses on his youngest, her face inches away from his.

"Yeah?"

"I thought 'sky' was spelled S-K-Y,"

"It is,"

"Then Ryan's not a very good speller,"

Sam sighs and puts Lucy down, bending so that he's eye-level with her. "What are you talking about, Luce?"

"Well, when I was reading his stuff, he spelled it S-K-Y-E."

His eyes grow wide and the realization hits him like a tidal wave, before laughter starts to bubble up inside him.

'_So that's what this is all about. Skye Hudson.'_

* * *

><p>It's after dinner when Sam decides to tell Quinn about his newfound discovery. After he tucks Lucy into bed and makes sure Ryan's done all his homework, he heads into the kitchen. He'll never admit it out loud, but Sam is pretty convinced that his wife is really Superwoman because there's really no other explanation for it. She works, takes care of the kids, manages to cook dinner every night, and puts up with him on a daily basis. He'll be damned if that's not super strength.<p>

Sam finds her sitting at the kitchen island, her index finger delicately tracing the rim of a wine glass. Her lips are stained red and it literally takes all his willpower to not kiss her senseless, but with the way her shoulders are tensed, he knows it's been a rough day. Instead, he nudges her shoulder with his, grabs the wine bottle and a beer for himself, and motions for her to follow him outside.

Their house isn't huge – it's not as extravagant as Finn and Rachel's bungalow and it's definitely smaller than Mike and Tina's mansion (being a doctor and special needs teacher pays well, apparently), but they do have an awesome backyard. It's filled with awesome kid stuff – a playhouse, a swing set, and even a small outdoor stage for little recitals and concerts. But despite the fact that he loves watching his kids run around and play, his favorite thing to do is definitely this – sit on their outdoor deck with his wife and a good drink.

"Your six year old daughter called Blake an idiot today, did you know that?" Quinn takes a sip of her wine, leaning back against Sam's outstretched arm. There's a soft smile that curls her lips and in the moonlight, he's pretty sure he's never seen anything so beautiful.

"To be fair, I saw Blake eat grass once – so she's not completely off," he chuckles. "Anyway, remember the fight between Lucy and Ryan earlier? I think I know why he's so riled up,"

"And why's that?" Quinn buries her nose into Sam's neck and breathes him in – he's always been familiar to her, even when they met in high school, sort of like she's known him her whole life. It's hard to explain, but she doesn't care – it just means she gets to spend the rest of her life figuring it out.

"Your son has a crush on Skye Hudson,"

Quinn's head immediately snaps up, her blonde hair whipping Sam in the face. He coughs gently, a smirk playing across his lips, because the look his wife is giving him right now is downright hilarious. She's wild-eyed, her hair all messy, and her mouth hangs wide open in shock.

"Skye Hudson? _Skye Hudson?_" she screeches.

"Do you know any other Skye Hudson?" Sam chuckles, which earns him a smack on the chest. Bewildered, he raises his eyebrows at Quinn. "Uh…is that a bad thing?"

Quinn takes a deep breath and looks at him head-on. "Skye Hudson is Rachel and Finn's daughter. Their _daughter_, Sam. Do you know what that means?"

"That she's going to grow up to either be a Frankenteen or a Hobbit?"

"No!" Quinn smacks her husband on the chest again and he immediately stands up and moves away, because even though Quinn is tiny, she still hits hard. She might be Superwoman, but she's also certifiably crazy.

"Then what is it?" he asks tiredly.

"It means my baby is going to end up marrying Rachel and Finn's daughter and _we_ are going to be their in-laws!" she shrieks.

The sudden outburst causes Sam to stagger back and Quinn launches into a whole monologue about how they're going to have to send their grandkids to some cushy school in Westchester and how they'll never see them again, but will be forced to make empty conversation with them at Thanksgiving with the Hudsons (what?). It's all far-fetched and for some reason, if they were talking about Charlotte, he'd probably be a lot more worried.

(Especially since she's started to date, but he really don't want to think about _that_).

But Ryan is _ten years old_. His social life is still dictated by how often Quinn wants to see her own friends and he's too busy with baseball practice and drum lessons to date – let alone get married.

Quinn is still rattling off divorce statistics for some reason, and Sam knows he needs to shut her up somehow, so he sets his beer down and walks over to her, pressing a finger against her lips. She swats him away, but he just shoots a playful smirk right back at her – they've done this dance a million times before.

"How are you not freaking out?" she asks, out of breath.

"Because I'm not an overprotective, scary parent like you," he chuckles, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Ryan's only ten. He's not thinking of getting married or running off with Skye Hudson – or any other girl, for that matter,"

"How would you know?"

"He's a _kid_, Quinn. So he's got a first crush. Isn't it better that he's crushing on someone we know than on someone we don't?"

"It's better that he doesn't like any girl at all!" she cries. "You need to talk to him,"

"And say what? 'Mommy thinks you're going to marry Skye, so you shouldn't write about her?' Quinn, come on,"

The look she gives him is harder than stone and actually makes him shrink back a little. "I don't care what you say or how you say it. Ryan is _not_ going to date Skye. And he's certainly not going to marry her!"

She emphasizes her point with a sharp jab to his chest, before shoving her wine glass into his hand. Giving him another death glare, Quinn storms back into the house, leaving Sam utterly dumbfounded.

What the hell is he supposed to say to Ryan?

* * *

><p>"Do y'all remember who your first crush was?" Sam asks, handing Blaine a beer and settling himself on the couch.<p>

There's about eight of them, sprawled out around Finn's basement. It's more or less the same game they've been playing since high school, but with time and age and distance, there are small changes in everyone – reminders that high school definitely seems like another life. For instance, Ryder is busy shoving a half-empty bottle of formula into an overflowing diaper bag and he has a watchful eye on the back part of the room. There used to be a pool table there, Sam remembers, before Skye was born. Now, it's turned into a glorified play area. And although it's predominantly bright pinks and reds, there are toy trucks and racecars and dinosaur figurines, left behind from everyone else's kids.

It's a far cry from the bar they'd always wanted.

"Julia Richardson. She had the bluest eyes you'd ever seen," Mike replies almost immediately, checking behind his back that Kayla, his 12 year old daughter, is out of earshot.

"Mine was Mrs. Feldman," Puck sniggers and a groan ripples throughout the living room. "Why do you ask?"

Sam sighs, popping a potato chip into his mouth. "Ryan has a crush," he mumbles. Puck and Artie immediately burst into laughter and he shoots them a glare – one of them is still single and prowling sketchy bars in search for one night stands, while the other one doesn't have kids yet. So yeah, he doesn't think those friends can really give their opinion.

The rest of the guys, though? Yeah, they get it.

"Don't all girls have cooties at his age?" Mike asks.

"That's what I thought, but apparently not. Anyway, Quinn's making a huge deal about it. She thinks they're going to run off and get married and we won't ever see him again," Sam shrugs, chuckling along with the rest of the guys.

"Your wife knows Ryan's ten, right?"

Sam quirks an eyebrow at him and with a knowing smile, he says, "Oh yeah? Imagine if Kayla came to you and wanted to date – tell me how you'll handle that and then we'll talk,"

"Dude!"

"Wait a second, we're missing the big picture here. Who does Ryan have a crush on, anyway?" Artie asks, wheeling himself into the center of the group. Before Sam can answer – although he really doesn't want to – a small voice suddenly chimes in.

"Skye!"

Lucy drops a handful of books onto the floor and plops down, seemingly oblivious to her father and her uncles gawking at what just came out of her mouth. Sam sneaks a glance over at Finn, who looks like he's about to spontaneously combust and for a split second, he wonders how fast he can grab his kid and just book it out of the basement. He sends a quick, thankful prayer that Ryan is at baseball practice and he makes a quick mental note to talk about Lucy's inability to keep things quiet with Quinn…

"Ryan has a crush on Skye?!" Finn's voice is hitting a decibel only dogs can hear and a quick survey of the rest of the boys show that they're all trying not to burst out laughing.

"Well, that's what Daddy told Mommy the other night," Lucy shrugs and leans back against the couch, her nose buried in an Enid Blyton book.

Sam pats her on the head affectionately and hopes she takes it as a sign that she should really just be quiet, but one look at Finn's wild eyes has him backtracking. Maybe it's better that Lucy talks all the time now – after all, Finn's not going to hit a little girl, is he?

Although judging from the look on his face, he really just might.

"Look, Finn, it's a stupid little crush. He's got her name written in one of his notebooks, that's all," Sam shrugs, trying to play it off as nothing. Except he's got two daughters – he knows it's not just _nothing_.

"Oh yeah, right! He's _your_ son!"

Sam bristles at that. The way Finn says it, like it's a bad thing that Ryan is half of him, or something. "Which is supposed to mean what, exactly?"

"That he's got that…romantic Evans gene or something! The one that kicks everything into overdrive! Next thing you know, Ryan's going to be proposing to Skye in the Astronomy classroom!" Finn cries. Puck and Artie burst into fits of laughter and Sam swears he just wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole, but it's just not happening.

"Okay, Finn, you need to calm down," Mike leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

Finn scoffs. "Yeah, of course you'd come to his defense,"

"Stop being such an idiot. I'm coming to his defense because your kids are _ten years old. _Seriously, they're getting married any time soon," Mike chuckles and takes a sip of his beer, with a shake of his head.

Sam winces, waiting for Finn's reaction to that. Despite the varying age differences between all of them, Mike's known to be the mature, responsible one. And it's probably because Tina has him on a tight leash or something, but he's also the one who gets in the least amount of trouble from his significant other.

So instead of gracing them with a coherent answer, Finn sort of just grunts and sinks back into the couch. Sam really, really wants to leave, but he knows Lucy hasn't been here long enough to play with her friends, so he shuts up.

Besides…he still hasn't figured out what to say to Ryan.

* * *

><p>The minute Sam comes home, Quinn is ready to pounce on him. And not in the good way.<p>

Instead, he gets bombarded with questions about Ryan and whether or not he's given up his crush on Skye and whether or not they've bought a house out in Westchester already. It's ridiculous and absurd, but Sam knows better than to argue with his wife, especially when she's all riled up, so he tries his best to answer everything.

(It's hard, because he really _doesn't_ know when Ryan and Skye are buying that house in Westchester).

An hour later, after Sam convinces Quinn to take a bubble bath and relax, he takes a deep breath and wills himself to open Ryan's bedroom door. Honestly, it takes him longer than it should, and Charlotte walks past him with her eyebrows raised all judgmentally (she looks so much like Quinn, it's scary). But how is he supposed to talk to Ryan when he's not entirely sure what to say? He takes a deep breath, knocks on the door, and waits.

"Come in!"

"Hey, buddy," he opens the door and the words feel fake on his tongue – it's something Ryan notices immediately. His son turns to him with a raised eyebrow (he definitely got that from Quinn).

"What do you want?"

"You want to take a break from homework and come talk to me for a sec?" Sam plops down on the edge of his son's bed and pats the space next to him. It's a little ridiculous he's acting like this – if it was _his_ dad, Sam wouldn't have had the option to not talk to him. Then again, Dwight Evans radiated authority, while Sam sort of just bounced happily around.

Surprisingly, Ryan closes his notebook and wheels his chair over, so he's eye level with Sam. "What are we talking about?" he asks, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

The thing is, Sam doesn't really care if Ryan has a crush on Skye. They're 10 years old – crushes are normal and it's not like they're running off to elope (despite what Quinn thinks). But then the other thing is that he wants to make his wife happy. And for some unknown, twisted reason, this is the way to do it.

"You've been hanging out with Skye a lot, lately," he says it awkwardly and he knows it, too. Sam knows he's trying to tread the line between buddy and Dad and it's never worked out well for him.

Ryan shrugs nonchalantly. "Yeah, so? We go to the same school,"

"I know that. I was just wondering…" Sam clears his throat and runs his fingers through his hair and _Jesus, this is harder than asking Quinn to marry him_.

"Dad, can you hurry up? You're cutting into my drumming time,"

Sam's eyebrows shoot up, because his son is seriously sassy and he doesn't even know where he gets it from (that's a lie, because Ryan so obviously gets it from his mother). So instead, Sam leans back on his hands and stares at his son straight in the eyes – those same, hazel eyes that he fell in love with for the second time when Ryan was born.

"Do you have a crush on Skye?"

Ryan's hazel eyes go wide – wider than that time they caught him scribbling on the white sofa with a permanent black marker. He backs away from the bed slightly, as if he's going to wheel away, but Sam's faster and presses his foot against the legs of the chair and pulls him back. With a stern look in his eyes, he stares his own son down and it's actually pretty cool, because he can sense the power he has over his own flesh and blood.

It's a little morbid, but still – cool.

"I…maybe," Ryan sighs and looks down at his feet, like he's ashamed of what he just said. Then his head snaps back up and there's a small fire burning in his hazel eyes. "It was Lucy, wasn't it? I swear, I need a lock on my door and she needs to shipped off to boarding school…"

"Hey!" Sam raises his voice, but it comes out in a half-squeak, but it does the job of shutting Ryan up. "Your little sister isn't being shipped off anywhere and you're not allowed to talk like that about anybody, okay?"

Ryan nods wordlessly and Sam gives himself a mental pat on the shoulder, because for once, he can actually feel the fatherly blood flow through his veins. He's always been stricter with his daughters, but Ryan's always been his buddy (in a house of three females, he needs a bro around). It's nice to know that when the time calls for it, Sam can turn on the Dad mode just like that.

"Are you mad?" Ryan asks sheepishly.

Sam frowns. "Why would I be mad that you like Skye?"

"Because she's really annoying," Ryan breathes out and his shoulders sag, like all the fight in him just deflated his little kid body. "Like, she's sort of loud and bossy and she thinks she knows _everything_…"

"Then why do you like her, if she annoys you so much?"

There's a beat, before Ryan answers him.

"She's pretty,"

Sam has to remind himself not to laugh.

"Ryan, you can't…you can't just like someone because they're pretty. You should like someone because of who they are – their personality and what makes them special. Not because they have shiny hair or sparkling eyes or a pretty face," he takes a deep breath and says it seriously – more so for his sake than anything else.

There had been a time back in high school, when he was convinced that good looks were all that mattered in the world. That it was appearance and face value that mattered more than substance and heart. It had taken more than just the Glee club to remind him and it had taken more than just a calmly worded soliloquy from Quinn who tried to tell him that he wasn't dumb or unworthy. Instead, it had taken a dark, quiet, lonely road to hell and back for Sam to realize that looks weren't everything – that eventually, good hair and a perfectly sculpted six-pack would fade.

"I guess it's not just the pretty thing," Ryan says, after a moment of silence. "She's pretty cool, too. Like, we hang out after I finish my drum lessons and usually she's always talking about Broadway and someone named Barbie Streisand or something…but then she'll talk about Jimmy Eat World or the Red Sox or sing a bit of Britney and then it's like she's human, you know? Is that weird?"

Sam's eyebrows knit together, trying to understand what the heck his son is trying to articulate. He has to admit that it's sort of cute, seeing his ten year old navigate his first crush and he's about to tell Ryan to just go with it – until he remembers that he's supposed to be discouraging him, like Quinn said.

Except he can't.

It's a harmless little crush! It's miniscule, compared to the other stuff they have to deal with – Lucy biting other people's kids and Charlotte going on dates and Ryan's inability to stop banging his drumsticks on every imaginable surface – in hindsight, the entire ordeal is pretty damn tame. Sam takes a deep breath and leans forward, places his hands on top of Ryan's shoulders and immediately decides he's going to take the easy way out.

"You're not going to marry Skye and end up living in Westchester, right?"

"What?"

"Just…answer the question,"

"No! I'm not going to _marry_ Skye! I'm ten!"

"And if you do marry her, we're not only going to see you at Thanksgiving with your kids, right?"

"I'm ten! I _am_ a kid!" Ryan shrieks.

"It's all I needed to know," Sam pats him on the shoulders one last time and drops a kiss on his son's head. "So if your mom asks, Skye is just a crush and you're still her baby, okay?"

Ryan nods, his eyes glazed over in confusion, and Sam stifles his urge to burst into laughter – again. Instead, he ruffles his son's hair and gets up.

"Good talk, Ry. Now get to bed," he orders, before making his way out the bedroom door.

Sure, it's not the most effective way to end a conversation. And it's definitely not the kind of conversation Quinn wanted him to have with their ten-year old boy, but he's just going to roll with it. Ryan's a good kid with a level head and he's still obsessed with baseball and drums and girls are only just coming into the mix – it's not like it's full-fledged love. So Finn's wrong about that, at least, because Sam knows Ryan and he knows that there's not going to be any proposals in Astronomy classrooms or putting Skye's name in lights or singing Bieber to impress her – and he sure as hell isn't going to be moving to Westchester with his private school kids any time soon.

But just in case, the next time Ryan has a crush on a girl, Sam's definitely not going to be the one to tell Quinn.


End file.
